


every merit in you

by scarletbluebird



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Brief thought of suicide, Cap_Ironman Big Bang, Community: cap_ironman, F/M, Fantasy Violence, Gen, M/M, SPNish AU, Tony and Pepper are siblings, in that there are monsters, magicish!tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 03:51:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2677988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletbluebird/pseuds/scarletbluebird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When his sister goes missing, Tony leaves his life of solitude behind to go after her with nothing but his trusty gun, broken compass, and 1967 Camaro. </p><p>During a particularly gruesome hunt, he runs into Steve Rogers, a deputy in some Podunk town in rural New York – or so he says. Tony’s quest for his sister, and Steve’s search for his childhood best friend, cause the two of them to form an unlikely alliance as they travel through the country, chasing down a ghost. One thing’s for sure, Tony is going to get Pepper back, or die trying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	every merit in you

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank my AMAZING artists, taradrawsfanart and sorellaerba, you both are so talented and put up with my horrible communication habits. :) I will add the links to their work ASAP
> 
> Heed the tags for any triggery things! Other notes / disclaimers at end

 

 

** every merit in you **

 

 

 

 

thus you may understand that love alone

is the true seed of **every merit in you** ,

and of all acts for which you must atone.

-Dante Alighieri, Purgatorio

 

                                    

 

**SEPTEMBER**

 

 

 

In hindsight he could admit that it was funny: the strange tangled web that was their lives. It was as if some minute spider scuttled along Tony’s bones, weaving strong silk threads through him, tying him to certain people and the world around. Sometimes, when the wind blew, he felt as if the leaves on the trees trembled inside his blood.

 

Now, shafts of light shone down from the thick canopy catching on bits of floating detritus and casting the dust into sharp relief. The air was heavy with the thick sounds of insects humming amongst themselves and the strange rustle of the trees as they brushed against one another. It was early autumn here - soft oranges and deep reds were beginning to bleed into the verdant green and already the leaves were falling.

 

In a glade nestled in the middle of the wood with grass up to his knees and sweat making his hair stick to his forehead, Tony felt he had finally reached his absolute limit.

 

The compass rested idly in the palm of his hand, its glass face was scratched, the cheap metal it was encased in beginning to rust near the lid. Its needle spun in a rapid circle before quivering to a stop and spinning just as fast the other way: clockwise, counterclockwise, clockwise, counterclockwise, clockwise-. Tony had tried the spell countless times, whispered it with a hoarse voice, yelled it in frustration, but the needle refused to still.

 

 _They were right_ , he thought tiredly _, to have kicked me out when they did_. Or else it was this place. Around him the old forest groaned as the wind picked up, coming in from the East. When the tall grass around his legs grew restless, Tony squinted up at the canopy eyeing the fluttering leaves of the tall oaks, silver now as they curled over on themselves with thirst. There was the sharp smell of ozone in the air: a fast approaching storm and somehow, though the great lake was many miles away now, the scent of salt came so strong it was cloying in his nostrils.

 

Pocketing the compass, he ran an impatient hand over his hair and left the glade, stumbling across the heavily rooted forest floor before scrambling up the slippery bank where his old Camaro was pulled off the gravel road and waiting. Of course it wasn’t really his, he’d left his in another world entirely. Still, it was familiar enough to the point where it even smelled the same on the inside and Tony supposed that’s what counted.

 

The door squealed in protest as he pulled it open.

 

“Sorry baby.” He whispered to her and stretched his legs out as much as was possible in the cramped cabin. He patted the seat and grumbled as his pants pulled uncomfortably tight near the pockets. He pulled out the compass and set it down on the seat next to him, staring at it for a moment before heaving a heavy sigh and closing his eyes.

 

The ping ping ping of rain tinkled against the roof of his car. Tony turned to look through the windshield and watched the world go blurry.

 

*

 

As is with everything; the feeling faded with time.

 

When he awoke, the world was awash in white. There was a set of fresh footprints leading across the road right in front of his car.

 

*

 

**ONE MONTH EARLIER**

 

 

 

Looking up from their base, the Cascades rose, craggy rocks jutting unmercifully upwards to the sky. Tony could see the brief glimpse of snow on their distant peaks before the thick mist that formed along the ridges hid them from view. After a moment he turned back towards his cabin, trudging under the towering Aspens that whispered to each other cheerfully, wading through the lush green grasses of summer’s end. He inhaled the space that was Mazama.

 

The fresh mountain air, the wide robin’s-eggblue sky that stretched out as far as the eye could see in all directions made him feel like his chest had cracked open. Up here the world seemed both bigger and smaller and Tony’s cabin was an oasis of solitude in the midst of it all.

 

Next to his cabin, surrounded by a low stone wall was the garden he had been cultivating. It was the product of necessity he liked to say, because he hated having to drive 30 minutes before hitting anything resembling a modern day grocery store.  Also he hated people as a rule. Also he hated the outrageous grocery store prices. Problem was, so far his plants were surviving but not really thriving.

 

Tony grumbled down to his little pepper plant, which had been one of the spontaneous additions to his garden. It had looked so pathetic on the 30 percent off rack at the grocers that he had given in and bought it against his better judgment. It was shrimpy, and had an air of grouchiness about it - as much as a plant could have an aura of displeasure, he supposed.

 

Still, he had planted it in premium soil, next to the happy tomato plants and had watered it diligently every day or when it looked thirsty. It was a stubborn thing though, and remained its shrimpy self for the whole month and a half it had been luxuriating on his patch of land. Now, Tony squatted next to it and gave it a side-eyed look. It was still green but - did it look shorter than yesterday? Was it possible for a plant to shrink overnight?

 

Tony gently took one of the leaves between his fingers and rubbed it. “Come on little guy, you can do this.”

 

The pepper plant stood unmoved. If anything it seemed more annoyed than usual.

 

He raked his gaze over the rest of his garden, taking in the roving vine tomatoes and the lavender bush that was practically bursting with cheer it was blooming so much this year. Even the timid summer squashes that trailed along the edge of the stone wall seemed content enough in the afternoon sun.

 

Beyond the little stoned in garden the hill upon which his small house sat, leveled off into a large grassy plain before ending abruptly at the foothills of the Cascades. There was no human sound, except for Tony’s steady breathing. Just the chirping of some far off birds calling to each other and the buzz of insects scritching their wings.

 

You hit the hermit goldmine Pepper had said to him when he first talked about moving from New York. He remembered that day: the cold wet winter drizzle falling against his face as he rushed across the street after seeing her through the window, the brown sludge that the snow had morphed into after days of black tires and dirty shoes treading through it. He remembered the stifling crowd of the little coffee shop in Brooklyn, bodies packed closely together to see the menu board, and the annoying cacophony of raised voices talking over each other in haste.

 

There had been that sad look he knew all too well present that day in Pepper’s eyes as she stared at him over her big porcelain cup of foamy latte, skinny white fingers clenched around the handle. He could almost convince himself it was because she feared the isolation that came with moving to a remote location. Vivacious Pepper could never have lived alone, while Tony thought he had been built for solitude.

 

“This will be good for me.” He remembered saying, conviction closing his throat. “This will be-“

 

A sharp trill of a bird brought him back to reality and he realized, from the burning of his thighs, that he was still squatting in his makeshift garden.  Sweat had beaded on his brow and he wiped it away with the sleeve of his plaid shirt. Lazily, he went to clean up his gardening equipment, throwing the trowel, muddy gardening gloves and an empty watering can in an old bucket before heaving it to the ramshackle potting shed that was butted up behind his house.

 

After scrubbing his hands in the kitchen sink, he slumped on one of the chairs and grabbed a touch pad from the table. He sat, hunched over as the weakening sun shone in through the window, casting long strange shadows against the wall.

 

*

 

 

“You’re the Greenie here not me.” He sighed over the receiver, hours later, splayed out on his cushy couch. It was fully dark now, the only light coming from the small standing lamp in the corner of the living room.

 

“Hardly,” Pepper scoffed, voice fuzzy over the line. “You’ve just got the blackest thumb of anyone I know. Have you tried talking to it? Maybe it’s just shy.”

 

“It’s not shy,” Tony grumped. “It hates me. It wooed me into buying it-“

 

“Itwooed you?” Pepper laughed.

 

“I felt bad for it,” He rolled his eyes at her laughter. _Ha ha_. He thought, not unkindly. _Laugh it up_. “Anyway, it moved my black heart with pity if you can stop laughing long enough to believe it and now it’s sitting in my garden taking up space, soaking up sun, sassing me and refusing to grow. You two should talk - you have a lot in common.”

 

“Hey!”

 

“I mean you share a name, geez,” He couldn’t help but laugh as she scoffed at him. “Defensive much?”

 

“Hrmph.” He could hear a tapping noise through the line. “I’m sure that’s what you meant.”

 

“It was. Scouts honor.”

 

“You were never in the Boy scouts, Tony.” She sounded amused again.

 

“Well you know,” He rolled over onto his back, shoving his legs under a cushion. The pillow on the end of the couch fell off just to spite him. He stuck his tongue out at it.  “I could have been. If I wanted to.”

 

“Uhhuh.” There was a break in conversation, nothing but white noise and Tony sat up and retrieved the pillow, setting it with firmly over his cold feet. He was just settling back when Pepper’s voice returned carrying a hesitant waver.

 

“Hey Tones….not that I mind but…why aren’t we water-calling?”

 

The sudden feeling of panic surprised him, pierced through his gut like an arrow. His breathing went choppy and he blinked sudden dark spots out of the corner of his eyes, teeth clenched.

 

“Tony? …Tony? Hello?” Pepper’s voice was slightly louder, like maybe she had been trying to get his attention for a while. Just how long had he been laying in a pathetic lump and blinking at the ceiling anyway?

 

“I’m fine,” he cleared the gravel out of his throat and tried again. “Pepper really, I’m okay. I just….I wanted to take a break after everything. I mean. I- you know how I get sometimes and I- well I’m just taking a break for a little bit is all.” _yes, well done_ he thought viciously, squinting hard at the ceiling.

 

“Tony,” She said softly. “It’s alright, it’s not a big deal. Phone is fine.” It wasn’t, not really, but it was another one of those things they never spoke of, like the summer of 83, that lost night stumbling around in the pitch underbelly of London sewers chasing a man who had no aura, or that asshole Pepper had dated during college who had walked in on Tony showering one too many times to be coincidental.

 

“Yea,” He swallowed. His throat was dry, boy would he kill for a drink right now. He wanted to say thanks but the word got stuck halfway up his throat.

 

It could not have worked out in Brooklyn, Pepper knew it even if she would never admit it aloud.

 

*

 

See the thing was, Tony was a witch. Well…in theory. In reality, he was more like one of those dim bulbs, the flickering lights you saw in seedy gas station bathrooms and wondered: what was the point of having a light if it was that shoddy? May as well be dark for all the good it did. Things that were innate for other witches were like pulling teeth for him. It was pathetic really, the way his hands shook after he did something as simple as pulling water from the air.

 

Those water calls had always been difficult, even in his younger years when his magic burned brightest. Something about water, the way it moved, the way it slipped through his fingers made Tony think of oil. Made Tony think of drowning and the slick sound of coughing with lungs full of water.

 

Pepper on the other hand, had excelled at everything her little fingers had touched - including water. Their mother used to joke that magic leaked out of her like liquid through a sieve, latching onto whatever it could.

 

“It’s not fair she’s so good at it,” Tony cried to Mama one night when he was very young as she tucked him into bed. “Why do I always have to be the one who’s bad?”

 

“Bad?” His mother cupped his cheek, using her sleeve to wipe away the snot from his nose. “You’re the best one of all Tones.” She folded the blankets under him like a burrito, cocooning him in a nest of cotton.

 

“No, I’m not. I’m horrible.” He grumbled up at her, eyelids heavy.

 

She made a sound that seemed to him to be a half laugh, half sigh, moving to run her hands through his hair.

 

“You have a special spark in you my darling,” She said softly. “It’s just waiting for the right time to come out.”

 

*

 

“That is it. We are done, I absolutely wash my hands of you.” Tony glared down at the pepper plant. It was some weeks later and the little weed still refused to grow.

 

 _Well I washed my hands of you first_ the plant seemed to say as its small leaves twirled in the wind. The single yellow flower bobbed in the breeze. _So there._

 

“Bah,” Tony threw down his watering can, scowled before sighing and picking it back up and muttering an apology to it. “I’m only doing this because I don’t want to waste water. We are over.” He grumbled, pouring the rest of the can over the plant. It ignored him.

 

The day passed idly, much like the past few years since leaving the city. There was a cool breeze passing through the mountains that kept Tony in his long sleeved button up.  He spent a few hours tinkering under the hood of Lil before pulling out some wax and polishing the metal until it gleamed in the sun. He had a quiet lunch in the kitchen of some cold cut chicken and cheese. He’d found much to his chagrin that since cutting the alcohol out of his life, his appetite had increased rather dramatically. Pepper had laughed when he complained about gaining weight to her.

 

After lunch, he made his necessary walk through the woods, checking the wards on the border of his property and then beyond, stretching out with his mind to the edges of the wood. The trees there spoke softly to him, _nothing nothing anthony_ , their deep contented voices assured him that all was well.

 

The forest was rich with life, midsummer wildflowers waving in the breeze; the small brook that ran through the wood flowed heavier today with the recent rainfall. Tony checked some runes on the marked trees as he made his way back - everything looked to order.

 

At the tree line he paused. In the distance, there walked a figure, dark against the late afternoon sun. Tony lifted his hand to shield his eyes. The figure, it was a man, he was sure of it - was tall and walking with purpose through the field towards his house.

 

Tony watched from a distance, as the person knocked on the front door the hollow sound of a fist echoing oddly in the clearing. Then he traipsed forward slowly. As he reached the gravel drive the crunching under his shoe caused the man to turn.

 

 _Oh_. Tony stopped. “Rhodey.”

 

“Jesus Christ, Tony you scared me!” Dressed in a pair of jeans and a Nirvana t-shirt, Rhodey looked strangely displaced. He even had stubble on his face the likes of which Tony hadn’t seen since their college days. He clomped down the stone steps and pulled Tony into a hug.

 

“I’ve been told I do that to people.” Tony patted Rhodey’s back, allowing the hug to go on for a moment before pulling away and clearing his throat. “Not that it isn’t great to see you but aren’t you supposed to be on some super secret ship off the coast of Spydom right now or something?”

 

Rhodey frowned. “Yea. Well, you know how it is. Actually,” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Can we go inside?”

 

“Yea, sure.” Tony clapped him on the back and led the way up the stairs, pushing open the heavy wood door. Rhodey followed behind, and Tony could feel the weight of something in his aura, heavy and dark, like rust eating its way through metal, pressing down on the other man’s shoulders. It made him antsy, and his breath grew tight in his throat as they walked through the cozy hallway, dark wood floors creaking _hello anthony hello!_ under their feet, into the kitchen. The sun spilled through the big windows over the sink.

 

Tony motioned for Rhodey to take a seat at the kitchen table before going to start some coffee for the two of them.

 

As the coffee brewed and the smell of dark roast filled the air, Tony sat across from Rhodey. The other man had his fingers laced together on top of the cherry tabletop. Tony could see his knuckles were white. When Rhodey met his eyes the dread in Tony’s belly curdled.

 

“What is it?” He didn’t know why he whispered the question. It was as if body knew the answer before his mind could form it into thought.

 

“Tony,” Rhodey licked his mouth nervously. “Pepper’s missing.”

 

Tony’s vision narrowed until all he could see was Rhodey’s face, his dark eyes and all he could hear was the word ‘Pepper’. His breath seemed unnaturally loud in his own ears and when he swallowed his saliva tasted like metal.

 

 “I’m sorry,” His voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere far away. “What did you just say?” When he swallowed again his throat clicked loudly in his ears.

 

Rhodey frowned. “Pepper’s missing, Tony. Happy called me this morning because she never showed up to their lunch meeting.”

 

Happy was Pepper’s on again off again boyfriend. Rhodey explained that they were off again currently so Happy hadn’t thought much of it when Pepper didn’t respond to his texts. He had only grown concerned when she hadn’t showed up for their lunch date a few days later.

 

“When did she stop responding to texts?” Tony asked.

 

“About 4 days ago.” Rhodey’s voice was tight.

 

Jesus Christ. 4 days. His sister had been missing for 4 days and he hadn’t felt anything. What the fuck was wrong with him? Tony let his face fall into his hands and rubbed his eyes.

 

“I can tell you the last place she was seen,” Rhodey was saying. “But you’re not gonna like it.”

 

*

 

Rhodey left shortly after because his job really was super secret and apparently he had had to call in a special favor to leave on such short notice.

 

“I’ll be in touch Tones,” He gave Tony another tight hug which Tony barely felt in his haze. “I hate that I can’t come with you.”

 

“Yea,” Tony said, throat tight. “Me too.”

 

That night Tony grabbed his old canvas bag that he’d bought at a flea market in San Antonio some years back and threw all of his t-shirts and pants into it, cramming in his tooth brush and socks as he zipped it shut. In another big bag he packed everything else he could think of: old spell books, a worn hunter’s guide went in along with a half empty bottle of rose shampoo, soap, a razor, his computer, his tablets and some food stuffs.

 

As he threw the bags into the car, he looked back at his small house. Its windows were dark now, uninhabited but for the small garden to the side. Tony felt a pang of loss for his crotchety pepper plant. Then he got into his Camaro and drove.

 

He pushed Lil to go fast, with his fingers clenched tight around the wheel and his music turned to a station playing the oldies. Time passed strangely on the open road. The sun sank low in the sky and still Tony kept going as if the devil himself was nipping at his heels. He drove for three days, stopping only to refill Lil and stock up on caffeine drinks.

 

He hit Tucson just as the sun came up over the ridge of the world on the fourth day, casting the Saguaro cactuses into eerie silhouettes.

 

*

 

 

Finally, when his eyelids felt like they were about to curl in on themselves and fall off, Tony pulled into a shit hole motel. The peeling paint on the sign made the name discernible but he went ahead and paid for two days with cash. In the cramped shower, he scrubbed the grime off his body, cursing at the piss poor water pressure, before collapsing in a heap of exhaustion across the bumpy bed. There was the humdrum commotion of people beginning to move about outside, the electric buzz of someone’s razor through the paper-thin wall. He could feel the panicked thrum of his heartbeat liquid in his inner ear and shaky with fatigue.

 

 _Calm_ , he thought to himself. He was not a machine, no matter how much he wished otherwise. Eventually, between one long blink at the peeling ceiling and the next, he fell into sleep.

 

*

 

 

_“Softly, softly,” She breathed, voice low, eyes like cinnamon. “Catch,” She guided his hand through the air, bringing it high, fingers spread open. He giggled as he looked up at it and the sun shone in his eyes. “Catch,” She hummed into his ear, holding his hand still before lowering it slowly._

_“Softly, softly.”_

 

*

 

The bedside radio woke him some hours later just as he’d asked it to and Tony forced his bone-tired body up and into some clean clothes.

 

Already sweating through his jeans he stomped into the little pawnshop in downtown Tucson. Right by the U of A, it was full of teenagers in florals and leggings, big earrings and aviators. Tony sidestepped a pair of giggling girls hunched over their cell phones.

 

There was a grumpy looking, red-faced man at the counter thumbing through an old fashion magazine that, judging from clothing on the girl on the cover and her hair, must have been from the early 90s. Tony had to rap his knuckles against the glass display case of some tacky watches to get his attention.

 

“What.” He snapped out, glaring through beady eyes. He frowned at Tony as though he had interrupted something of great import.

 

“I need to talk to Clint,” Tony intoned blandly. He was dying to make a comment about the great customer service but more flies with honey and whatever. Despite his tongue biting the other man did nothing but stare at him like he was speaking a foreign language. “What?” Tony frowned right back.

 

“Clint don’t work here no mo’.” The man finally said, already turning back towards his magazine.

 

“Unbelievable,” Tony muttered under his breath before trying out a smile, it felt like plastic straining across his face. “Listen bud, can I call you bud?” He leaned over the counter, “I don’t really have time for 20 questions. He used to be an employee of yours yeah? Can you give me his number?”

 

“Don’t have no number,” The guy didn’t bother looking up. “And even if I did I wouldn’t just give it to some thug in off the street.”

 

Abruptly Tony felt like his blood was about to steam out of his ears. “I’m a friend of his.”

 

“Sure,” The man drawled out, licking a dirty finger to turn the magazine page. His aura was the tasteless yellow of apathy, “That’s what they all say.”

 

Tony slapped a palm down on the counter before turning away and storming out of the store. The street was still packed with college kids and he turned awkwardly as he saw the two girls from earlier blatantly eyeing his ass, auras bright pink and heavy.

 

At the corner of the block he took a moment to heave a sigh and pull off his old leather jacket that he’d worn to help hide the bulge of the glock shoved down the back of his pants. Now he was too hot to give a fuck. There were a number of newspaper boxes pushed together and he glared at them for a moment before growling under his breath and digging around in his pockets for some change. The hatch squealed open and he yanked out a few of the papers, folding them under his arm.

 

When he finally made his way back to his car, there was a line of bird shit all across her hood.

 

“Wonderful.” He sighed, using the sleeve of his jacket to scrub at the crusty white that had cemented itself on the black paint. It wasn’t coming off. He gritted his teeth and jerked open the door, sliding inside.

 

He drove back to the motel in a frustrated haze. Every stoplight seemed to have a personal vendetta against him; it took forever to drive the few miles back. He grabbed the papers and dropped them on the chipped side table before moving into the dirty bathroom. He pulled out a clump of toilet paper, ran it under the tap, and stomped back outside to scrub at the hood of the car.

 

“There,” He said after about five minutes of endless scrubbing. Wiping the back of his arm against his forehead, he patted her hood. “Damn, that took way longer than it should have.”

 

Back inside, he spread the newspapers over the bed.

 

“I need coffee for this.” He went over to the pathetic little excuse for a coffee machine, stabbing at the power button until it turned on. While the machine squealed away, he walked to the window to adjust the curtains and was just in time to witness another bird pooping across the hood of his Camaro. “Son of a bitch!” He threw the door open and ran over to the car.

 

“Hey!” He flapped his hands aggressively at the bird, which flew off with a squawk leaving behind the evidence of its presence on his car. “Great. Thank you!” He yelled. It chirped down at him unconcerned and safe from its perch on a nearby lamppost.

 

Tony shook his fist at it before going back to the bathroom to grab more toilet paper. By the time he was finished the coffee was long done. He poured himself a cup and made a face at the watered down bitterness.

 

“Blah.” He said, sticking his tongue out and scraping it between his teeth before taking another slurp. Nothing in the world quite like horrible coffee. He could even see the grounds floating in it. Back on the bed he flipped through the paper, turning to the obit section. He ran a finger down the page, skimming, and there it was. Same as any city or town, tucked away but easily found, immortalized in small print: mysterious death, untimely demise.

 

He grinned to himself. “Gotcha.”

 

*

 

 

 

The thing about stakeouts was that they seemed way more interesting in movies and television shows than they were in real life. The reality was much more mundane: a lot of sitting, staring, pins and needles in the legs and butt. A lot of boring. Usually Tony even secretly squeezed in some napping. But not tonight. Tonight Tony had filled a whole thermos with the bad coffee in order to stay awake but even so, after the first three hours he was zoning out while staring through his windshield.

 

Finally, at around 2am, a dark figure crept through the police caution tape surrounding the pretty blue split-level. Tony watched it reach the door and slip inside. After a moment, he got out of his car to follow.

 

The front door creaked open and inside the foyer was neat and quiet. Clean. The pictures that lined the walls showed smiling faces, a potted fig tree in the corner still bore green leaves, a dark coat hung from the row of hooks next to the door expectedly - waiting for its owner to claim it. Not exactly the kind of scene you’d imagine a grisly murder took place in and yet -

 

Tony stood tall, head tilted, holding his breath. There was a faint scuffle from upstairs and he glanced up as the ceiling above him groaned and dust fluttered down.

 

He took the stairs slowly, slowly inching his way down the dark hall. Towards the far end, there was a door cracked open.  He was forced to squat under the caution tape in front of it, awkwardly stretching it up above his head. Staying down, he squinted at the bed, the cluttered dresser taking in the emptiness of a room that had been lived in and then suffered a sudden abandonment.

 

Shit, all his muscles tightened, but it was too late and a sudden weight plowed into his back, slamming him to the ground. An elbow dug its way into his neck.

 

“Well look who it is,” Clint Barton drawled down at him from where he was now sitting on Tony’s back. “Didn’t think I’d ever catch you doing this again. You know I could hear you as soon as you came in the house, you walk like a drunken elephant.”

 

“Nice,” Tony grunted into the floorboards. Coughed. “Great job. Now get the hell off me.”

 

“Tetchy.” Clint wiggled off of him and sprawled out on his own back. For a moment they breathed together in the darkness before Tony groaned and sat up. His flashlight had bounced across the room when he’d been pounced on and he made a half hearted attempt to crawl after it before realizing it had rolled under the bed.

 

“Dammit,” He smacked his hand on the floor and scooted to stick a foot under the bed and kick it out the other side.

 

Clint clicked on his own light. “Yo Tones,” he shined it over at Tony. “Not to cut into you sweet talking the flashlight but I’m set to salt and burn this spirit and then jet.”

 

“No body to burn.” Tony shrugged at Clint’s frown. “What, didn’t you read the file?”

 

“I thought they’d recovered a body.” Clint was still frowning.

 

Tony waved his hand, “Not the body of the vic, I mean the body of Jill Fletcher.”

 

Clint sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Of course you did.”

 

 

*

 

 

 

In exchange for agreeing to re-pull the file from the bowels of the Tucson PD files, Tony demanded dinner. Since Clint didn’t have his car, Tony drove them and they stopped in a small 24-hour diner in the center of town and settled into a booth, slouching against the hideous purple and glitter vinyl seats. The waitress seemed just as tired as they were when she came to fill their order.

 

“Listen, in the interest full disclosure here, which should be enough to intrigue you -  I’m leaving for New York so I need you to go to my place and play Watcher for a little bit.” Tony said while pouring hot sauce over his fries. It was predawn, the strange grey light of almost sun seeping in through the slants in the blinds. There was one other proprietor in the corner, a trucker from the looks of him, and their frumpy waitress who looked dead on her feet and had the heavy blueness of exhaustion about her.

 

Clint gave him an unimpressed look and bit into his ham and cheese sandwich.

 

“I’m serious.” Tony wrinkled his nose as Clint chewed with his mouth open in what had to be a purposeful manner. “Ew. I mean really Clint come on, that’s disgusting.”

 

“You’re disgusting.” Clint said through a mouth full of food.

 

“Well that’s true.” Tony nodded thoughtfully. “But you gotta do me a solid here.”

 

“Do you seriously expect me to believe you’re going to New York,” It wasn’t even a question. Clint took another big bite of his sandwich. “Tell me what’s really going on and maybe, _maybe_ , I’ll consider being mountain ranger for a day or two.” He flashed half masticated ham and cheese at Tony.

 

“Ugh.” Tony pushed his plate away in disgust. He hated Clint. “Stop you’re gonna make me puke on you and all it’ll be is coffee because that’s all I’ve had in the past 24 hours. And I am being honest- I have to go to New York. Trust me it’s the last place I ever want to go ever but I gotta go.” He took a deep shaky breath. “Pepper’s missing.”

 

Clint sat up so fast he choked on the last bit of sandwich. Coughing he clenched his hands into fists on the Formica tabletop. “What?” His eyes were wide, the whites of them clearly visible in the dim light. “Are you fucking with me?”

 

“No I’m not fucking with you Jesus, Clint!” Tony lowered his voice, glancing at the trucker who seemed to have fallen asleep against the wall and noting that the waitress must have gone into the kitchen. “Rhodey came to see me a few days ago. Apparently she hasn’t been seen for going on 6 days now.”

 

“Shit.” Clint’s voice hissed out. “When was the last place she was seen?”

 

“She had texted Happy she was going to go for a run and then he didn’t hear anything after that.”

 

“Shit,” Clint said again, reaching out to nudge at his glass of water with a finger. His brows furrowed, sharp frown lines creasing his face.

 

“Yea.” Tony sighed before pulling his plate of fries towards him again. He wasn’t hungry in the slightest but he knew he had to eat something. _not a machine_. Hethought sadly.

 

 “Well I’m coming with you.” Clint said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

 

“Clint I need your help back in Mazama, there’s gotta be someone watching the wards there, you know that.”

 

“Ugh,” Clint rolled his eyes. “Talk about the most boring job in the universe-“

 

“Hey-“

 

“I mean, who the hell is gonna break the line wards all the way out there. They’d have to hike through the Cascades first on one side, and drive through hundreds of miles of nothing on the other. And why bother it’s not like there’s a-”

 

“Okay,” Tony threw a fry, snorting when it smacked Clint’s nose. Then he sighed, feeling an immediate pang of guilt at finding amusement when Pepper could be lying in a ditch somewhere dead or _worse_. Pushing that thought away he leaned back in the booth. “I really need you to do this Clint.”

 

Maybe it was the tone of his voice that did it, maybe it was the dark circles under his eyes but whatever it was made Clint’s own curling grin fade away.

 

“Yea sure Tony,” He said quietly. “Just help me finish up this job and I’ll do it.”

 

*

 

 

“Jill Fletcher.” Clint read over Tony’s shoulder. They had both commandeered a research station at the U of A library. Tony had easily re-hacked into the police files. “That’s our gal?”

 

“Gal, what are you from the 1940s? But yea, looks like she was killed back in 1966, found brutally stabbed in her kitchen. Every 12 years or so there’s a mysterious death at the homestead.” This year of course was one such 12th year. Tony looked at the grainy black and white picture of the woman. She was pretty, blond hair swept up into a simple bun, hazel eyes cheerful.

 

Now she was a monster that needed to be put down.  Tony couldn’t help but wonder what she hadn’t been able to let go of.

 

*

 

Nine hours later they stood outside the little blue house, quiet now both inside and out with Jill’s spirit at rest, to part ways.

 

“That has to be the easiest job I’ve ever done.” Clint said sticking his hands in his back pockets and lazing against the side of Tony’s car. They’d ended up tracking down a piece of Jill’s hair in a locket that her granddaughter still possessed. “You should come back here after everything, work with me again.”

 

“Nah,” Tony creaked open the driver’s side door and slide in. Inside Lil smelled like old leather and heat, like home. He took a deep breath. “You know I don’t work well in teams.”

 

“Uh huh, you’re a real lone wolf.” Clint rolled his eyes but said nothing more. For a moment the both of them watched the house in silence. Soon, Tony knew, this house would be resold and another family would move in and the blood that had seeped into the foundation of the place would be forgotten like so many other places.

 

“You need a ride back to wherever?” Tony asked, turning the key in the ignition, smiling as the engine purred to life. He ran his hands over the steering wheel.

 

“No I’m good, thanks though.”

 

After Tony closed the door, Clint leaned down to look into the open window.

 

“Hey,” he said, uncharacteristically serious. “be careful. And call me if you run into any trouble. Any trouble you hear me Tony? Whatever this thing is, it sounds big.”

 

“Right.” Tony cleared his throat. “Will do. Take care of yourself.”

 

Clint nodded and backed away as Tony made to pull away from the curb. At the stop sign at the end of the street he glanced back and caught the form of a small bird rising into the air. A familiar small bird.

 

He couldn’t help but laugh. “That son of a bitch.” Shaking his head, he gunned the car around the corner.

 

*

 

With his ward duties taken care of, Tony wasted no time in setting out. Unfortunately, his lack of sleep caught up to him and Lil forced him to stop for the night in a small town just beyond Oklahoma City. She started sputtering at him again in Memphis Tennessee just after he’d decided to pull an all nighter.

 

“Come on girl,” He tried to cajole her to no effect. He sighed and moved to stretch out across the backseat. They were in a Flying J parking lot so he didn’t anticipate being disturbed. Still, he kept the gun under his seat just in case. He slept heavily that night and whatever dreams had touched his mind he blessedly forgot in the sunlight.

 

The next time Tony stopped was when they rumbled across the Pennsylvanian border. It had been raining heavily for the past few hours with a storm front rolling in from the Atlantic. Tony was exhausted; it had been over 12 hours since he’d last slept and he could feel his fingers tingling with the need for rest.

 

“Gonna stop for the night Lil,” he slurred, pulling over to the side of the road. It was risker doing this, but with the expected weather forecast he didn’t think he’d be bothered by highway patrol or anyone else. It was supposed to continue to downpour for the next few days. He shut off Lil and crawled over his seat to fall into the back seat. The leather was soft and he was eventually lulled to sleep by the quiet of his own breaths and the rumble of thunder.

 

*

 

 _“T_ _ell me what you saw lovely,” she held him in her arms as he panted, drenched in sweat and heavy from a nightmare._

_“I can’t,” He cried, turning his face into her neck, sniffling. She smelled like lavender and warmth. “I can’t, I can’t-“_

_“Shhhh,” She hummed into his hair a wordless lullaby. “It’s no matter,” She said softly into his ear. “It can’t hurt you here.”_

_Can’t it. He thought, shivering and curling his legs up into her lap. Whenever he closed his eyes he saw fire and a dark face watching him with gleaming eyes like pitch on the other side of the flames._

 

*

 

His ragged breathing awoke him, and he gasped, wincing as he slowly unclenched his hands. He’d been curling his fingers so tightly, his nails had cut little half moon grooves into his palms. He stared down at them, willing his choppy breathing to slow. After some time, he looked up again. It was still raining, but the sky was a lighter grey - the sun must have arisen some hours before. Sure enough, when he moved to check his phone 11:33am flashed up at him.

 

“Shit.” He’d slept far longer than planned which was not on. “You said you’d wake me up at 7.” He frowned down at his phone that only vibrated at him in a cheery orange way. “Well that’s no excuse at all, you don’t do what she says you do what I say.” He scowled and shoved the thing in his back pocket before it started chirping at him.

 

Scrambling into the driver’s seat he glared at the radio as he turned the ignition. The windshield wipers started swiping defiantly.

 

“I don’t care Lilac,” Tony frowned, easing back on the road. “I think I know my limits better than you.” He reached out to fumble with the radio-

 

 _the trick you said, was never play the game too long_ came blaring out of the speakers

 

“Geeze Lil,” Tony sighed, shook his head. “I get it. What’s next, Iron and Wine?” Lil rumbled beneath him as if in agreement with his suggestion.

 

*

 

Pennsylvania had beautiful green rolling hills and wide-open countryside. Tony knew this because he’d spent some drunken weekends camping out in the mountains with Rhodey. Tony had come out here alone too, just him and Lil when the city felt too crowded. When people’s thoughts and feelings got too heavy he’d press his foot on the gas and go. Now the green countryside was a blur with persistent rain, the storm urging them on as if to hurry them across the border and into New York.

 

Indeed, the ferocity of the stormed died off almost as soon as they crossed the state line. Tony rolled down the windows, inhaling the cooler air in its wake.

 

The wind seemed full of voices saying hello and pushing Lil’s tires forward across the asphalt. The hours melted by with a slow steadiness and as they finally rolled to a stop just north of Tarry Town and passed the old Sleepy Hollow sign, there seemed to him to be a singular whisper on the wind sighing _tony tony tony_ in a dulcet autumn murmur - sweet and full and welcoming.

 

“Alright, alright I’m here.” he said to it, pulling to the side of the road before a small rundown home that was engulfed by tall trees. The leaves here were in heavy oranges and reds, maples and oaks and elms lining the old streets, they crunched under his feet in welcome. The cool wind from the morning persisted and as the sun went down, Tony took a moment to gaze out over the rustic steeples and shale roofs. And in the distance, the nuclear plant rose up like a proverbial mount Olympus of industry.

 

In Sleepy Hollow, even common folk had heard of the legends surrounding this little village. Even the dullest here could feel the heaviness that permeated through these buildings. He shook his head. If only they knew the truth.

 

“Well Lil,” He patted her hood, she was making the comforting tink tinking sound as she cooled down. “I think it’s time to go visit an old friend.”

 

*

 

For a moment he stood on the cracked sidewalk, squinting. The house before him was drab: a mundane brick facade with a cracked window above the door. The words Tony would use to describe it if asked would be desolate, dingy, boring, wholly forgetful - he could go on. But really, who had thought that shade of yellow was a good idea? Probably Clint.

 

Heaving a sigh, he made his way up to the front steps that looked like they were on their last leg; rotted through in some places, and creaky with age. The doorknob, when he grabbed it, was loose and surprisingly difficult to turn. Inside though the air was crisp and clean. Tony paused to listen. There was a faint clacking sound of fingers hitting a keyboard in rapid succession.

 

On the off chance it wasn’t Ohio, Tony slowly pulled his glock out from his pants and crept down the hall. He braced himself at the corner and held his breath to listen.

 

“I know you’re there Tony.” Ohio’s voice came to him in a bland monotone. The tapping didn’t stop. “You walk like an elephant.”

 

“Funny,” Tony quipped, tucking the gun away and turned the corner. “Your boyfriend said the same thing.”

 

For a moment Ohio’s fingers paused and he glanced up at Tony. He seemed to be sizing him up, and then he looked back down and continued to type.

 

“So you got my message then,” Ohio pushed his reading glasses up his nose from where they’d slipped down. He squinted at his computer screen and then, with a look of satisfaction on his face, leaned back in his office chair and threaded his hands together.  “Good, I was beginning to think you were just ignoring my calls.” He had a pleasant smile on his face. It made Tony distinctly uncomfortable.

 

“Er…” Tony scratched his head. “Yea sure. No actually, what are you talking about?” 

 

“The messages I sent you some months ago.” Ohio raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t your roommate forward them to you? He said he would.”

 

Tony opened his mouth, closed it. Eyed Ohio who still had that smug look on his face. Like he knew a secret. “Oh?” Tony said slowly. “Somehow I get the feeling you know I don’t live in Brooklyn anymore.”

 

“Mazama,” Really the man couldn’t have looked smugger if he tried. It was like a superpower. That and his spotless suits. “I’ve known since you moved there. Probably before.”

 

“Creepy.” Tony smacked his lips.

 

“Necessary.” Ohio shrugged.

 

Tony shrugged back, narrowing his eyes. Ohio sort of looked like he wanted to shrug again but instead sighed.

 

“So I take it you’re here for information on your sister.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Would that I could help you.”

 

“Meaning?” Tony felt a lump of dread build in his stomach. It was a hollow feeling, akin to a great hunger. It scratched at his insides.

 

Ohio took off his glasses, which only made the feeling grow - Tony knew he tended to do that when he was about to break some tough news. “She doesn’t have any sort of trail that I could discern.” His eyes were steady on Tony’s.

 

“How,” Tony cleared is throat. “How is that possible?” What he wanted to say was, what the fuck do you mean you couldn’t sense a trail, you’re a fucking psychic, but he managed to hold his tongue. Barely. Ohio likely understood what had gone through Tony’s mind without him having to voice his thoughts.

 

“I don’t know Tony,” He ran a hand down the front of his tie as if to smooth out any invisible wrinkles. “Whatever took your sister,” he shook his head, “I’ve never felt anything like it before.”

 

Tony sat in the chair in front of Ohio’s desk. It was surprisingly soft and friendly, but he couldn’t do much more than pat it absently. His mind felt like static was running through it. “She was taken then.” It wasn’t a question.

 

“Oh, most certainly.” Ohio’s gaze was still steady, his eyes were soft with sympathy but his mouth was a tight line. It made Tony grit his teeth and ache to lash out.

 

They sat that way in silence for a moment, watching each other. Tony stared into Ohio’s eyes and wondered what the other man saw in his head because he couldn’t think, his mind felt like a dark ocean, deep and treacherous and he the foolhardy mariner completely lost at sea.

 

“Not lost,” Ohio murmured. “There’s still hope. I think I know someone who could help you although,” he frowned and looked away from Tony and back to his computer even though Tony knew he couldn’t possible see well enough to make out the words, “he’s an oddball but you should work with him.”

 

“Well by all means if you think I should,” Tony spread his hands. “Who the hell is this guy?”

 

“His name is Steven Rogers,” Ohio sighed again. “He actually works for the sheriff’s office here.”

 

“So why the long face?” Tony frowned. He didn’t particularly like cops but Ohio was giving off some weird vibes.

 

“I’m not sure what his deal is,” Ohio moved to put his glasses back on. “but he seems nice enough. Upstanding. Preaches about truth and justice when given almost any opening - you’ll probably hate him, but like I said something tells me if you’re going to find Pepper you need him to help you out.”

 

“Awesome.” This day just kept getting better and better. “Does he have any joints he likes to hang out in?”

 

Ohio raised and eyebrow. “What like the local library? Why don’t you just cruise by the police station? Lil’s safety inspection is out, I’m sure he’ll pull you over readily enough.”

 

“Asshole.” Tony grumped under his breath.

 

*

 

As it turned out, Steven Rogers found Tony before Tony had the chance to find him. And it was completely random and not at all due to his expired inspection sticker thank you very much.

 

Elliot Browning had drowned in the Hudson River the day before. His body had been found by one of the construction workers off Walnut Street, washed up on gritty sand and bloated ripe in the midday sun.

 

When questioned, his mother said Elliot had gone to pal around with a few friends along the shoreline but that he had played in that area often and had never gone in the water. But he was a strong swimmer, she had added to Tony, frowning down at the pad in his hands where he had written _playing on walnut street normal behavior, friends jaime shepherd, curtis martin, mark lehnbard, no one swam, strong swimmer_

“I already explained all this to Deputy Rogers,” She sniffled, dapping her eyes. Her eyeliner had smudged into her cheeks and there were lines of deep exhaustion bracketing her mouth. “Why do I have to do this again?” Her voice wobbled.

 

“Federal regulation ma’am.” Tony intoned, pocketing his spiral. He nodded his thanks and gave his condolences.

 

Later on that evening, he parked Lil’ in the parking lot on Walnut street and looked out over the Hudson.

 

It was a dirty river. The kind that you wouldn’t want your kids swimming in. The kind you didn’t eat out of or really even think about as you travelled across it. At one time it had been lush, the life vein of the region. But now Tony knew it was angry, the depths of its waters, brackish in some places, were home to dark fell things. Things that had travelled great distances in a mindless vengeance, things that had lost their homelands to humans and whatever souls they may have had to humanity’s sprawl. Those sorts of wounds festered and rotted away the coherent mind.

 

In the seat next to him was a pile of newspapers going some months back. Within the last three months, five people had disappeared into the Hudson within a 4-mile radius. Charles Hanford a well to do business man, Margaret Tanner a school teacher, Annie Flemming a little girl, Tom Banns a teenager and his girlfriend Annette Hastings. Tony knew if he went back further, the pattern would continue, all the way across the Atlantic Ocean. And these were just the unsuccessful ventures, Tony knew. He’d found PD listings for at least 35 people whose bodies were still unaccounted for. He knew they would never be recovered.

 

Tony looked out over the river as the sun disappeared and the sky turned black and hazy - tonight the wind had blown the smog in from New York City. There were no stars and the Moon shown milky through the clouds like some strange cataracted eye.  

 

“Damn,” He sighed aloud. “I hate kelpies.” To be fair, he was pretty sure Kelpies hated him just as much, if not more. He and Pepper had run into some when they were younger, off the coast of Cape Cod where they’d mistaken the group of young men as Selkies. They had not been pleased at the mix up. Tony still bore a scar from when one had clawed his side. He shook his head. Kelpies - nasty business they were but killable. Like a surprising number of monsters - a silver bullet was the way to end them.

 

“And end it we shall Lil,” He said to his Camaro. “because that’s what we do to things that go bump in the night.”

 

 

*

 

Of course it was easier said than done. He’d gone down to the waterline, taking care not to slip on any slick stones. He’d walked for hours, until his feet were soaked through his shoes and his head hurt from straining to see out over the dark water. Nothing. Not even so much as a ripple. It happened sometimes on hunts but it had rarely happened to him. Finally, as the sun crested the horizon, a blood red smear in the distance, Tony trudged back to Lil, exhausted and irate.

 

“No use looking during the day.” He said to her, voice hoarse. He barely remembered the drive to Ohio’s house, only that his hands shook as he cut off the engine. His eyes felt as heavy as lead weights and by the time he collapsed onto the soft comforter, a garish floral pattern, in the guest room he was already unconscious.

 

He slept through the day, awakening only when Ohio stuck his head in to tell him to get his ass up.

 

“Clint’s on the phone for you,” He said, already turning away with his cellphone pressed to his ear. “Yea I know.” he spoke softly into it.

 

“Well then give it here.” Tony grumbled, face smushed into the pillow.

 

“Get. Up.” Ohio’s voice came from the hall.

 

Sighing, Tony eventually rolled onto his back and rubbed his gritty eyes. The light streaming in from the large windows was the soft flare that came before sunset - it must be around five o’clock in the evening. He could hear the soft sounds of birds chirping from the Elm in the front yard.

 

For some long minutes he simply lay like that blinking intermittently at the ceiling. He felt like a dried out fruit, crusty, smelly, he felt like death. _Kelpies_ he thought to himself with annoyance. It was only the guilt that would come from abandoning the case that kept him in this town. That and the pressing need to find Steven Rogers.

 

Finally he made himself roll out of bed, bones creaking as he sat up. He shuffled down the wooden floored halls towards Ohio’s voice. The man seemed to be in the depths of an animated conversation with Clint. Whatever, Tony didn’t care as long as there was no phone sex happening.

 

“Ah, here he is now,” Ohio said, just as Tony schlepped around the corner into what turned out to be a rather cheerful kitchen. “Here you go. Yea, you too.” He held the phone out with an expectant look.

 

“Mrph.” Tony half-heartedly snatched it and brought it to his ear. “Mmm?”

 

“Hello to you too,” Clint drawled.

 

“Hrmmm.” Tony said. He made his way slowly towards the ancient looking coffee maker on the corner of the kitchen counter.

 

“I just wanted to let you know that all’s well at your little outpost in the woods. Oh, and that you missed a killer harvest, you’re pepper plant looks like it’s going to eke out like three big ones.”

 

“What?” Tony nearly dropped the carafe he’d just picked up. “Are you kidding me?”

 

“I never joke about food Tony, just ask Phil-“

 

“It’s true.” Ohio chimed in helpfully from his place at the kitchen island, where he was overlooking the scene with amusement.

 

“-Anyway, the tomato plants have practically exploded too.”

 

“Back to the pepper,” Tony cut in. “Are you telling me that little asshole actually bore fruit? Like edible fruit?”

 

“Yes? And are peppers even fruit, I thought they were vegetables…” Clint sounded like he was caught somewhere between confusion and mirth.

 

Tony’s fingers clenched around the carafe and he took a breath and set it down. No big deal really, but he and that pepper plant were going to have some words when he got home.

 

“Whatever.” He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I’m just glad everything is in order. Are all the runes-“

 

“Everything’s fine Tony,” Clint’s voice was softer now, soothing. “I just wanted to check in to ease your mind. And to talk to Phil obviously. Actually, could you put me back on with him.”

 

“Yea sure. Take care of yourself Clint. And thanks.”

 

“No worries. You too Tones. I meant what I said before.”

 

“I know. Ohio, your boy wants to say goodbye. No phone sex with me present please.” Tony tossed the phone across the kitchen. He could hear Clint’s tinny laugh coming from the receiver as it sailed through the air.

 

“I hate it when you call me that,” Ohio caught the phone and frowned across the counter at Tony. “you know that.”

 

“Sure,” Tony shrugged sleepily. “S’why I think it all the time.” _OHIO_ he thought helpfully, turning back to glare at the coffee machine. Maybe if he squinted at it hard enough it would wake up and start brewing something.

 

He listened to Phil sigh behind him and leave the room murmuring something to Clint.

 

 _probably going to go have that phone sex now,_ the coffee machine said to him. Seemingly it had been awake the whole time, which was more than a little irksome.

 

“Thanks for that,” Tony gritted through his teeth. “Where’s the coffee at anyway?”

 

  1. The machine chirped, most unhelpfully.



 

“Obviously.” Tony muttered, but under his breath. No sense in pissing off the thing that was gonna make him his ambrosia. At least not until after he’d drank his fill.

 

 

*

 

After gulping down three cups of what was possibly the most disgusting coffee ever to have been rendered into existence - a fact which he told the crotchety machine after he’d finished his last cup - Tony left the kitchen to go say goodbye to Ohio and head back to the shoreline.

 

In hindsight Tony realized that it had been highly unlikely that the Kelpie would revisit it’s old hunting grounds especially so close to having just completed a fresh kill. Thus he planned on setting up his stakeout some miles west of Walnut St, in the hopes that something would happen. The Kelpie after all had not eaten the child and so was likely to strike again. It was hungry.

 

The stars were visible tonight, the west wind having picked up and pushed the persistent smog back towards the city. The moon burned bright in the clear sky. Tony leaned against Lil and sighed up at them before moving to the trunk to dig around for a box of 9mm refurbished bullets. He’d packed them himself, not trusting some stranger to do the job. Holding one up to the light, it looked like any other bullet. Only of course it wasn’t.

 

Tony walked the shoreline for some hours, but there was nothing. After a while, he settled down to take a break in a little copse of willows that huddled around each other as if for comfort from the growing industry around them. They welcomed him with their branches, sighing as he sat and leaned against a trunk.

 

For a while he watched the river move past sluggishly under the light of the moon. It looked cold, unfriendly with the approaching winter. Soon his eyelids grew heavy and even though he knew it was a bad idea, in the shelter of the willow branches he felt secure, and at length he fell into a light slumber.

 

When he awoke it was much darker and he felt cold, like a wet blanket had wrapped around him. He shivered, rubbing his arms and stood up against the tree. The willows were silent now, slumbering beneath the moon.

 

Tony moved to gently brush back the veil of leaves and froze. On the other side, right along the river’s edge stood a man, cloaked in darkness. His face was pale beneath his long shiny dark hair and despite his ethereal beauty, a fetid stench rose around him.

 

“You’ve been looking for me,” The man said with a voice like honey. He glanced back at Tony with hypnotic golden eyes. “Well, here I am.” And even as he spoke, he was walking into the river, and Tony felt compelled to follow. After all, the man was right, he had been searching for days and he was tired, but the soft curve of the man’s cheek and the way his hair shone under the starlight despite the seaweed woven through it... Well, there could be respite found within those arms.

 

The water that rose around him smelled sweet, like the stargazer lilies that had grown in his mother’s garden. The man’s hands were tight around his own now, soft and cold and pale as the surface of the moon. Together they submerged beneath the Hudson and Tony watched the rippling lights of the surface with fascination, his lungs felt like ice blocks in his chest but no urge to breathe struck him. _tony tony_ the world seemed to say to him urgently but all he could see clearly was the face of the man in front of him.

 

It was mere seconds that Tony spent beneath the water but it felt like an eternity before a loud crashing sound swept through him and the underwater world collapsed into chaos. The crash had been someone jumping into the river, and suddenly as if awaking from a dream, panic swept through Tony and even as he was pulled to the surface, he remembered to clutch at the slimy hands of the kelpie to bring him along.

 

He coughed as his head breached the surface, clinging to whatever was pulling him towards the shore. The kelpie’s hands were claws now, tearing at the flesh of Tony’s arm but Tony gritted his teeth and refused to let go even when the creature began to wail.

 

A bright light flickered and rose up around them. Tony, choking still, closed his eyes in fear. The light burned ever brighter still until it seemed to be swallowing the world, it seared through Tony’s closed eyes and his brain felt like it was on fire. The kelpie’s screams grew louder, its claws sunk deep into Tony’s arm until, suddenly, there was nothing and his consciousness was washed away like small sharp seashells in a departing tide.

 

 

*

 

 

“Hey, are you okay?” A hand fell away from his arm but hovered close to his shoulder as if waiting to see whether or not Tony needed to be steadied.

 

“Yea,” Tony coughed, spat out water and oh that was disgusting what was that, algae? Kelpie blood? He hoped it was algae.  He glanced down at his arm, where the kelpie had gripped it to the bone but there was no broken skin, not even a bruise. “Yea,” he said wonderingly to his skin. “I’m great, thanks.” He looked out to the river but its surface was placid like nothing had happened. What _had_ happened? Where was the kelpie?

 

“No problem.” The man’s voice cut into his thoughts. When Tony looked up he immediately felt like he’d been hit with a bolt of lightning and despaired at the unfairness of the universe. Why did he have to look like total shit whenever meeting hot people, good sweet lord.

 

The man raised his eyebrow. “Are you sure your ok? I found you slumped over pretty close to the river. You should be careful, there’s been few drownings in this area lately.” He looked concerned. Probably thought Tony was suffering from some sort of traumatic brain injury due to his slackjawedness. Was that even a word? Tony didn’t think so.

 

“Er,” He closed his mouth, swallowed some excess spit and disgusting Hudson. “Absolutely.” He smiled but it was wobbly. Now that he thought about it, he was feeling a little like a wet sock, one of those fuzzy ones that felt like the inside of a cloud. Or what an imagined cloud felt like, of course a real cloud didn’t feel like anything much, it was mostly water vapor, although an nimbus storm cloud-

 

“I’m not convinced.” His mysterious savior seemed amused now, blue eyes crinkling down at Tony. “I should really take you to the ER.”

 

“Oh no, no, no I’m definitely fine.” Tony stood up, wincing as his wet pants clung uncomfortably to him. His mouth tasted like the inside of a garbage disposal. He probably smelled like something similar. “Thank you…” He tried to lean away as the guy moved closer as if to steady him.

 

“No problem,” The guy quirked a crooked smile before rubbing at the back of his head. “Let me at least give you a ride back to your house.”

 

“Wow buddy,” Tony held up his hands. “A little presumptuous don’t you think?”  

 

The man’s mouth pinched as if personally offended. Not a joker then. “Just doing my job,” He said earnestly. “My name is Steve Rogers and I’m a deputy with the Sleepy Hollow police force.”

 

And that’s when Tony noticed the uniform, and his eyes focused on the shiny brass nametag that read Steven Rogers. Of course it did.

 

“Right.” His voice was faint. “Sure, let me just grab some things out of my car.”

 

Lil was parked right where Tony had left her, safe and sound in the empty parking lot. Steven stood quietly by as Tony rooted around in the back seat for his duffle that had a change of clothes inside it. He was definitely showering at Phil’s tonight.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow Lil.” he whispered to her as he stood up. “Alright, I’m ready.” he said to Steven, who was hovering by the front tire hands in his pockets like he didn’t know where to put them.

 

 

 

*

 

The ride to Phil’s was, in a word: awkward. Tony spent the first few minutes trying think of a way to broach the subject of getting Steve’s help. The problem was, he didn’t know how exactly Steve could even help him and his mind was more concerned about what had happened over the past 20 minutes. It kept going in a strange cyclic logic circle: Kelpie - water - light - steve - water - kelpie - kelpie explosion - light - water – kelpie - steve, it was a train of thought that frustratingly lacked an ending since, unless he could shake his impromptu rescuer and investigate the scene, there was no way he could find out what had happened to the damn kelpie. Although Tony was pretty sure it was dead.

 

As they waited for the stoplight to change colors, Steve cleared his throat.

 

“So…you know your car has an expired inspection sticker right?”

 

Tony, who had jerked in surprise at the break in the silence, took a second to curse silently to the heavens.

 

“…yes?” He sighed in resignation. “I am aware.”

 

The light turned green.

 

“I’m gonna have to write you a citation for that.”

 

 _Figures._ Tony thought.

 

*

 

“Yo, Ohio.” Tony called out into the dim foyer. Steve hovered like a mountainous shadow behind him – he’d insisted on escorting Tony to the front door on account of him ‘probably having a concussion.’ Whatever. Tony just wanted 1. A shower. 2. Something to drink that was not Hudson and hopefully alcoholic. If he was lucky he could get Coulson to talk to pocket protector Steven while he showered. Man was hot, but bland like the coffee Ohio’s machine cranked out.

 

“Don’t call me that.” Phil’s voice came from the direction of the cluttered kitchen. Muffled bangs could be heard as Tony made his way inside and Steve followed, frowning.

 

“Ah hello,” Phil appeared in the doorway at the end of the hall. His hair was in an extremely uncharacteristic messy halo around his head to the point where Tony had to fight the urge to rub his eyes. Was he hallucinating? If he didn’t know better he would suspect Barton had left his diligent watch. He shook his head, tuning back into the conversation just as Steve was nodding his head to something.

 

“Yes I know,” He was saying. “It’s a terrible thing.”

 

“What’s a terrible thing?” Tony cut in and then had to suffer through a few worried questions  - no no he wasn’t losing his memory he’d just hadn’t been paying attention, yes he was sure – before Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

 

“The level of missing persons has gone up drastically in the area in the past few years.” Steve shook his head. “And I have some friends working in other states telling me the same thing. Mostly Northwest of here. Missing persons. Drownings. Things like that.” By the end of his explanation, Steve’s mouth was pinched in a tight line, eyes dark with something akin to anger.

 

 _Huh, maybe not such a dull boy after all_ , Tony thought. Coulson gave him a look out of the corner of his eye like he’d heard what Tony was thinking and Did Not Approve.

 

“Have the FBI not been informed?” Coulson asked, turning back towards Steve.

 

“Oh yea they have and some primary investigations have even been done, I know my one friend Lara in Eerie said they had two feds come out there for a few weeks.” He shrugged. “They just never seem to find any leads.”

 

“Hmmm,” Tony rubbed his chin, making a face as he pulled some weeds out of his beard. “Well this is all very interesting, but I’m gonna have to do a public service and go take a shower. It’s been a pleasure Officer,” He tilted an imaginary hat in Steve’s direction before heading towards the stair well. He could feel both men staring at him as he ascended but all he could think about was how bone meltingly awesome the hot water would feel against his fatigued muscles.

 

 _If you want him to come with me so badly,_ he thought in Phil’s direction. _then you recruit him._

_I hate you._ Phil thought back.

 

*

 

After his shower, Tony felt like a man reborn. Slipping into clean sweats and a baggy t shirt he made his way back down to the kitchen in search of something hot to drink and jerked in surprise when he turned the corner and saw Steve still there and talking to Coulson in an urgent manner, punctuated with jerk hand movements and a low muffled tone.

 

“’Ello boys.” Tony said loudly causing both men to jerk. He huffed to himself and wandered over to the coffeemaker who was emitting angry red vibes in his direction. In hindsight he probably shouldn’t have dissed the thing’s coffee making skills until he was ready to leave town. “Why so serious?” He snickered to himself.

 

“Nice,” Phil rolled his eyes at the same time as Steve stood up straight and blurted - “Serious? Who’s serious?” Right. Well, whatever, Tony didn’t need to be in the loop anyway.

 

He poked at the power button on the coffee maker after adding some grounds and frowned as the thing hissed steam at him. “I didn’t mean it,” He murmured down to it, “Your coffee is…unique.” It gurgled.

 

“What are you doing?” Steve’s voice came from right next to his ear, caused him to jump in surprise and bang his elbow against the side of the coffee maker.

 

“Er, talking to the coffee maker?” He tried, rubbing his elbow. “Wait, what are you still doing here?” 

 

Steve raised his eyebrows. “Phil invited me to stay for dinner.” he said. “Then I guess in the morning we’ll be hitting the road.”

 

Tony turned back to the coffee maker and hit the start button again. After a few tries, the machine began to brew coffee, burbling in anger.

 

“Oh?” Tony tapped his nails on the counter. “He told you then?”

 

“About your sister? Yes.” Steve’s voice was soft. “I’m so sorry Tony.” 

 

Tony clutched the countertop. Gritted his teeth. “Yea.” He said because what else was there to say.

 

There was a moment where the silence stretched thin between them like the pressure of a knife just before it broke skin. Tony dug his teeth into his bottom lip.

 

At length Steve spoke again, his voice was just as soft; just as hesitant. “I’ll help you find your sister,” he said. “Because I’ve lost someone too.”

 

And that’s when Steve told him quietly; standing in Phil’s kitchen with hunched shoulders like the weight of the world lay between them. Told him how when he was younger he’d had a friend, a best friend, a brother, who’d been there in the aftermath of his mother dying, who held his hand at the funeral, who had gone to college with him and laughed at his jokes. Who, some three years ago had disappeared into the night without so much as a trace. Steve had been a rookie cop then, in Brooklyn New York, but he’d moved that day to Sleepy Hollow where his friend had been living in an effort to pick up on the trail of anything.

 

“The local police couldn’t find anything,” Steve’s voice was weary, “and by the time I got there they’d already re-let the apartment.”

 

Phil had approached him then, the day after the funeral the town had pulled together. Told him that the things that crawled in your nightmares were real and not only real, but that they hunted you. But don’t worry, you could hunt them too. Steve had decided then to stay, and try and hunt down the thing that had taken his friend. But, like he’d said, that had been three years ago.

 

“Jesus.” Tony’s throat hurt and even though he hadn’t been the one spilling his guts he felt like he’d been eviscerated. “Steve. I don’t know what to say.”

 

What was there to say? In all likelihood, this Bucky was already dead, bones bleaching in the sun under an unfamiliar sky. But he couldn’t say that, not to the bleak look in Steve’s eyes. In all likelihood, he knew the truth already.

 

So he said the only thing he could think of, and he said it firmly:

 

“We’ll help each other.”

 

*

 

They set out early the next day, Steve having quit his job that morning.

 

They took off West, toward the Great Lakes. The majority of disappearances had been around that area and they had to start somewhere-- may as well keep hunting while they were at it.

 

They stopped in Eerie and had a late lunch with Steve’s friend Lara who was also a cop. She told them the FBI had sent her a few emails in the months following their initial investigation about the missing bodies of 7 teenagers who had gone off together in a car one night and never returned. The car had been dredged from Lake Eerie a week after they disappeared. Her mouth pinched as she explained that the leads had quickly dried out and the government had since lost interest - especially since the media had quit covering the cases.

 

Steve’s hands were clenched in tight fists for the majority of the meeting and Tony spent a lot of time sighing to himself and his warm cup of coffee about how the sunlight seemed to shine just right against the blonde of Steve’s hair, making it glow like a halo around him. _Not fair,_ he grumped to himself. He felt bad for the missing kids, but things like this seemed to be a dime a dozen nowadays.

 

“So what now?” Steve asked. They were standing on an overlook by the lake. The wind was strong, whipping their clothes against their bodies.

 

“Not sure but whatever this was, it wasn’t a kelpie.” Tony shrugged, squinted out at the horizon line where the choppy water melted into the blue sky. The dates of the disappearances didn’t make sense; kelpies worked alone and ate only fresh meat. They didn’t horde 6 other bodies for no reason and they wouldn’t attack a car full of people. No, whatever this thing was, it wasn’t a kelpie.

 

“They’re dead.” Tony’s voice was quiet. “And not to be callous but…we probably have better things to do.”

 

“What things?” Steve was frowning. “We have no leads. At least this way we’re doing something. And you’re right, this thing isn’t a kelpie, but it _could_ be what we’re looking for.”

 

Looking for? They were chasing a pair of ghosts.

 

He shook his head and glanced at Steve. “How do you know so much about this anyway? I thought you were a simple minded deputy.”

 

Steve stiffened before sighing. “Simple minded?” He deadpanned. “Thanks.”

 

“No problem,” Tony waved a hand. “but seriously.”

 

“I read.” Steve folded his arms, the look he cast Tony was a mix of amusement and exasperation. “When I got to Sleepy Hollow and met Phil, he practically smothered me in books.”

 

Ah yes, Phil did tend to do that. Tony has a vague memory – mostly because he tried to repress it -  of Phil making him read the hunter’s journal of some old man in Wichita, KS who had spent pages and pages and pages going on about the Nazca Lines and how they were used to communicate with aliens. Tony never needed to read anything about the Nazca Lines again.

 

“Say no more.” He shuddered.

 

 

 

That night they stayed with Lara in her old converted farmhouse.

 

“It’s not much,” She said, serving out spaghetti. “But it’s all mine.”

 

“It’s lovely.” Steve assured, picking up his fork. When Lara smiled and moved away to get some glasses, he looked down at his plate uncertainly.

 

“It’s pretty good.” Tony said through a mouth of pasta sauce. “Try it.” He gestured with his fork.

 

Clumsily, Steve rolled up a wad of spaghetti and brought it to his mouth. His brows lifted in surprise. “It’s good!” He exclaimed and began shoveling the food into his mouth at high speed.

 

“Duh.” Tony paused to watch him eat. “I refuse to believe you’ve never had pasta before.”

 

Steve just shrugged at him with his mouth full and Tony side eyed him until Lara came back in from the kitchen balancing three cups of water interrupting the strange mood between them.

 

*

 

Sometime in the early hours of the next day, a heavy storm blew in from the North bringing with it crisp winter air. In the morning, with the sunrise muted with heavy dark clouds, Lara led the both of them down to the station, to a small empty conference room.

 

“And you say you’re a consulting detective,” She looked rather unsure all of a sudden, uncomfortable, as if she should have been questioning this earlier but had somehow forgotten. “What are you like Sherlock Holmes?”

 

Tony, who didn’t have any interest in explaining himself to a woman he barely knew no matter how good her spaghetti was, shrugged.

 

“Something like that.”

 

Lara looked to Steve who glanced up from where he was already looking through the pile of files. “He’s fine Lara, trust me.” All blue eyes and earnest, Lara’s wrinkled frown faded away into a smile.

 

“If you say so,” She said, but she didn’t look worried anymore. “I’ll let you guys get to it then.” The click of the door behind her left the room in silence but for the soft shuffling of papers against each other.

 

“Right.” Tony cracked his knuckles. “Give em’ over.” He made grabby hands.

 

Steve handed over a pile with a crooked smile. “Good luck.” He said.

 

Of course there wasn’t really anything substantial in the files. Names, dates, locations of disappearances all with absolutely no leads. Three of the disappearances occurred relatively close together – within a 3-4 mile span of each other in fact – and Steve suggested they check out the property the next day. It was too far removed to set out driving there today.

 

“It’s owned by a Natalie Rushman,” Steve said, eyeing a faded sheet of paper. “She doesn’t live on the property though, only comes to check it a few times a year.”

 

“Any contact info?”

 

Steve’s finger ran down the page. “Looks like she gave the PD a phone number to call.” He glanced up. “It’d be the right thing to do to let her know we were coming. The legal thing.”

 

“Sure, sure.” Tony nodded and hummed. He licked a finger and turned the page. He could feel Steve staring at him from across the room but he didn’t look up until the other man heaved a heavy sigh of surrender.

 

Then he let himself grin down at the file he was holding. They spent another night at Lara’s eating slightly burnt barbeque chicken and playing a highly competitive three player game of scrabble which Lara ended up winning by two points. Tony curled up on the pullout cot that night, and had a blissful sleep free of dreams.

 

*

 

They didn’t end up calling Ms. Rushman, which almost resulted in Tony being shot in the ass.

 

“Care to explain just what the hell you two are doing on my property?” the voice caused Tony to nearly jump out of his skin from where he’d been poking around a decaying log. Steve just sighed and gave Tony a sour look like it was his fault they hadn’t called or something. When the two of them turned around they were staring down the barrel of an old Winchester model 94.

 

“Er. We can explain.” Tony stuttered, cursing to himself. His glock was shoved down the back of his pants. No way could he get to it before his head was blown off.

 

The woman behind the gun, a rather voluptuous redhead, coolly raised a brow at him if to say, _well? Give it your best shot._

“We’re looking for someone.” Steve said, voice quiet. He had a steely intense look in his eyes when Tony glanced over that made something inside him squirm uncomfortably.

 

“I already told the police everything I know.” She said calmly, but there was a gleam in her eye as she turned away from Tony to focus on Steve. “Though, you’re not police are you.” She tilted her head. It wasn’t a question.

 

“Not in this case, Ms. Rushman, this is more of a personal matter.” Steve sounded as if butter wouldn’t melt on his tongue. Tony could kill him. What was he doing? They’d already decided on their cover story and here Steve was blowing it before he’d even began.

 

The air between the three of them was wrought with tension, until all of a sudden Natalie lowered her weapon, although she was still looking at Steve with an air of uncertainty. As uncertain as one could look with no discernable expression, Tony supposed.

 

“Come with me.” She said finally, and as abruptly as she had appeared she turned and was but a shadow in the trees. Her strange umber like aura listing after her like the lingering scent of flowers.

 

Steve moved to follow so fast that Tony had to grab his arm to halt him and was almost dragged along a few steps.

“Are you crazy?” He hissed. “She could be leading us right into a trap.”

 

“Tony,” Steve glanced at him and if Tony didn’t know any better he would have thought the other man was amused. “She had a gun pointed at our heads. If she wanted to kill us she already would have.”

 

“Yea well, she could have tried anyway.” Tony grumbled and begrudgingly let go of Steve’s arm when it was tugged away. “You don’t know for sure.”

 

Steve turned back towards the retreating figure of Natalie. “It’ll be fine,” He said. “Trust me.” And then he was off, walking with swift feet through the trees.

 

“Trust me, he says.” Tony mimicked. Easier said than done. But what choice was there really? Now he was alone and it was getting dark. “Hey Steve, wait up.” He called out, stepping over a pile of rocks and following after the other man whose bright hair gleamed in the fading light.

 

Natalie led them to a white washed brick house, standing quite inexplicably in the middle of the swamp. It was like something out of a novel - huge windows, tall pillars lining the front, plantation-esque in its wrap around porch.

 

She waited for them to catch up on the front path, carved through the marshy land and set with big flat stones. Silently, they followed her up the steps and through the ornate wood and steel door that was like something out of the medieval age.

 

“Beautiful house.” Steve’s voice echoed strangely through the large chamber like foyer. There was a huge spiral staircase leading to the upper level, and six sets of identical doors encircling them, evenly spaced apart in the round room.

 

“Yea, not creepy at all.” Tony couldn’t help but mutter under his breath. He felt rather like a rat in a maze. _And behind door number one, certain death!_  He thought. The look Steve sent him made him almost convinced his pithy comment had been overheard.

 

“Thank you.” Natalie nodded to Steve as she carefully set the gun on a rack hanging from the wall, before pushing open one of the doors. On the other side was a brightly lit room, painted an eye-searing Robin’s egg blue. “Right this way gentlemen.”

 

When they were settled uncomfortably on an overstuffed couch, Natalie folded her arms and leaned against the mantle of one of the most ostentatious looking fireplaces Tony had ever seen. And that was saying something.

 

“Let’s cut the bullshit shall we?” She said bluntly as if she’d been waiting on a knife’s edge to say it. “Why are there two hunters poking around my land uninvited? I had an agreement with Welson, and I haven’t broken it.”

 

“Not saying you have,” To his credit Steve had managed to remain mostly unaffected by Natalie’s seemingly random statement. “But there’s still those 7 kids unaccounted for with three of those disappearances happening in your own back yard. We had to check it out.” Steve shrugged.

 

Natalie’s arms tightened across her chest. “I didn’t kill those kids.” She muttered, but-

 

“But you know who did.” Tony may be confused as hell, but he knew a tell when he saw one and the pinched look of Natalie’s lips gave her away as clearly as a card sliding up a sleeve.

 

If anything, Natalie’s mouth got tighter. For a moment she looked away, out one of the huge windows to the marsh outside and the shadow’s of the trees beyond. In the full moonlight, her face was cast in eerie shadow, the hollows under her eyes like pits of pitch.

 

“No one did,” She said in a strange lilting voice as if she were suddenly very tired. “They were taken far away from here.” She glanced back at them quite suddenly, eyes wide as if she had not meant to speak.

 

“Where were they taken?” Steve was sitting very upright, hands very still in his lap. It was as if he weren’t real, as if he were some strange preternaturally attractive statue only imitating flesh.

 

“I can’t-” She swallowed and seemed to draw in on herself a cloak of placidity. When she spoke again, her voice was calm. “I can take you to the lake. But I won’t go back there again. I _won’t_.”

 

Something infinitesimal relaxed in Steve’s face and he slumped back against the couch, glancing almost absently at Tony who did not know what the fuck was going on but was trying to hide it.

 

“Alright,” Steve said, finally. “Alright.”

 

*

 

“What the hell is going on?” It burst out of him as soon as they were alone in the guest’s suite, which consisted of the whole East wing of the house. He paced the room as Steve sighed and sat on the corner of one of the beds.

 

“I’m not sure,” He rubbed the back of his neck and bit his lip, watching Tony pace. “But. Natalie…she’s not human.”

 

“Yea, no shit,” Tony snapped out. Then at the look on Steve’s face, sighed. “I saw the way her eyes reflected. Something obviously feline going on there. What, you think she’s a Shifter or maybe some kind of werecat…?” He trailed off when Steve made that weird face of his, like he was about to drop some random Knowledge.

 

“I think she’s a vampire.” Steve said, and _what?_

 

“A vampire?” Tony couldn’t help it, he laughed so hard he had to lean against the windowsill. “Ok, first of all,” he held up a finger, “Vampires don’t exist. Second of all,” he held up another finger,  “She was walking around in broad daylight and even if vampires _did_ exist, which they don’t by the way, they can’t walk around in broad daylight. Everyone knows that.” _Ridiculous_ he thought.

 

Steve spread his hands out in a placating gesture. “I’m just saying, I’ve read some things at Phil’s that definitively say otherwise. To both those things.”

  
“Pffft, you probably just read Phil’s collection of Vampire porn. You know, Anne Rice?” He felt rattled when Steve just continued to look at him in that earnest Boy Scout manner that was becoming increasingly worrisome. “Dude. No way.”

 

“Fine, don’t believe me.” Steve splayed out on the bed. “You’ll see soon enough.”

 

Tony watched as yup, Steve seemed to fall asleep like that. Right there over the covers without a care in the world as if he didn’t just drop a knowledge bomb all over Tony. Whatever stupid thoughts he’d been having towards the man and his stupid hair and his stupid evening sky eyes well they were seriously misplaced because Tony? He officially hated Steve and his stupid unreadable silvery aura. Hated.

 

“Bah.” He grumped, and splayed out on the other bed. He got very little sleep that night.

 

 

*

 

The next morning, when they made their way into the spacious kitchen, Natalie had laid out two huge plates heaped high with scrambled eggs and grilled cheese.

 

“Thanks,” Tony pulled the plate towards where he was sitting at the counter and then glanced at her. “Uh, aren’t you going to eat anything?” He picked up a fork.

 

 

 

 

She held up a glass, “Already am.” And yup, that was _probably_ tomato juice right? Right? Right.

 

“It’s blood.” She said as if sensing his anxiety, and took a big gulp.

 

“Holy shit.” Tony was surprised the grip he had on his fork didn’t break it. “Holy-“

 

“I told you.” Steve said from where he was carefully scooping up some egg onto his own fork. He chewed slowly, looking unconcerned.

 

“Ain’t nothing holy about it.” Natalie drained her glass, set it on the table. She leaned her elbows back against the counter and watched the two of them eat. After a moment, she spoke again.

 

“So what’s the real reason you’re doing this?” She drolled. “Not that I don’t think the two of you have heart’s of gold but no one is that blindly righteous. Well,” She gave a bland glance at Steve who was nibbling on his grilled cheese. “Maybe you.”

 

Tony glanced at Steve. The other man gave him a solemn look, well as solemn as one could look while chewing a big wad of cheesy bread.

 

Well, alrighty then. “We’re looking for some people of our own.” He rubbed his hand through his hair, cleared his throat. “My sister-” he nodded towards Steve, “-his best friend.”

 

“And what makes you think they’re there?” Natalie’s face had gone very still.

 

Tony shrugged. “Same sort of disappearances, same sort of dead ends. At this point, I’m willing to take almost anything as a lead.”

 

“This place,” Natalie moved to relocate her glass to the sink and filled it with water. “Is full of monsters. But sometimes humans get dragged there, by mistake or because some demonic creature wanted to have some fun.” She was staring at the water as if mesmerized. It was overflowing, flowing over the lip of the glass.

 

Tony, who had been watching her in silence, carefully looked away towards Steve who seemed as placid as ever, finishing the last of his grilled cheese. His eyes were sad though, when he glanced over at Tony.

 

*

 

“So vampires can walk in the daylight? This is blowing my mind. Hey, how do I smell to you? I always imagined it would be something like a filet mignon, you know delicious and juicy, but is it more like a dessert? Chocolately and sweet? I could dig that. Hypothetically of course. This is seriously blowing my mind.”

 

“Clearly.” Natalie said, dry as dust from where she was sitting in the back seat. “Shouldn’t you be concentrating on the road?”

“I can multitask, and Lil practically drives herself. Hey, don’t pretend you didn’t hear any of my questions, I expect some answers you know,” Tony clicked on the blinker and changed lanes. “For science.”

 

“Does he ever shut up?” This time the question was directed to Steve who was sitting next to Tony in the passenger seat with a hand cupped over his mouth.

 

“Unlikely.” He said through his fingers.

 

“Hey!” Tony glared over at the other man who was taking way too much pleasure in pointing out just how wrong Tony had been. “But anyway,”

 

“ _Anyway_ ,” Natalie cut in, voice suddenly a tad bit impatient. “You’re about to miss our exit.”

 

They talked in the car, well Steve and Tony talked in the car, Natalie mostly sat quietly looking out the back window as they blazed their way up the coastline of Lake Huron. Tony found out Steve was sorely uneducated when it came to music and so took it upon himself to share the wealth as it were of all the classics and more.

 

Steve in return, made him stop at a Barnes and Noble and force fed them classic novels that Tony had been avoiding. Most he couldn’t stand, didn’t have the patience to sit and listen to without getting bored but some like Wells, he found stuck with him in a heavy sense, deep into the pit of him to his bones and he would think about strange cold things as he drove down the road at night with his two silent passengers. One asleep, one never asleep alongside him.

 

Eventually they stop. Natalie and Steve had offered to drive but Tony didn’t know either of them well enough, not even Steve, to let them drive his baby. In a seemingly charitable move, Natalie paid for their hotel room that night and then told them she’d see them in the morning, before hailing a cab.

 

They stood and watched the red taillights disappear around the corner before heading up to the room. Tony talked Steve into ordering pizza – “ok there is something seriously the matter with the fact that you have to be talked into eating pizza, it’s _pizza_ ” – and they laid on separate beds watching crap tv for a few hours before Tony’s lids got heavy and he was cast into strange dreams where he was talking to the back of people’s heads.

 

He woke up sometime in the early grey hours and when he looked over he could see Steve standing by the window and looking through a crack in the curtain.

 

“How long can you really chase a ghost before…” Tony trailed off with a swallow that was strangely loud in the silence of their hotel room. He hadn’t realized he was speaking aloud until he’d stopped.

 

“Before what?” Steve asked, voice a quiet murmur.

 

“I don’t know.” He said, even though that was a lie. What he wanted to say seemed stupid, contrived even, but he couldn’t help but see it printed in the back of his mind in neon - flashing against his eyelids whenever he closed them: _Before you lose yourself. Before you become the ghost._

 

Into the silence, Steve’s voice came to him, slow and gentle. “Your sister is very real. And Bucky too. Tony, what we are chasing is worthwhile. Try and remember that.”

 

How did everything Steve say end up sounding like a sermon? Still, Tony found comfort in the assurance radiating off of the other man. He could practically taste Steve’s candor it was so potent in the half-light.

 

“Okay.” Tony eventually said, quietly.

 

“Go back to sleep Tony.” Steve said softly, from the window. The light through the crack in the curtain cast a warm glow across his face.

 

“Okay.” Tony mumbled again and then somehow, he fell into a dreamless sleep soft as down feathers. When he awoke it was morning and Steve was in the chair by the window and reading one of his books. Hemingway’s, _The Old Man and The Sea._ He looked up, caught Tony’s eye and smiled.

 

Tony smiled back.

 

*

 

After a pathetically quick breakfast, Tony despaired of those two really, they were piled back in Lil again, chugging their way up the curvy road through the miles of unending wilderness that was Michigan’s upper peninsula.

 

“How much farther?” Tony asked, sipping at his hotter than hell coffee. He fumbled while trying to put it in the cup holder but luckily Steve was there to grab it and put it in its place. Who knew when they’d run into another town, let alone another gas station. Good thing he’d filled Lil up before they’d crossed the Mackinaw bridge.

 

“We should reach Marquette by nightfall,” Natalie said from her usual place. Sometime in the night she’d found a pair of huge sunglasses and was wearing them and a stylish scarf. She looked gorgeous, like an old-fashioned silver screen star.  Tony wondered, with a sudden prickling sadness, where she was from. And when. If she’d had a family. Her mellow voice interrupted his thoughts. “I know a place we can stay. Then, tomorrow morning I’ll take you guys to the boat. After that you’re on your own.”  

 

“Right.” Tony adjusted his grip on the wheel.

 

“I’m not going over there again.”

 

“No one’s asking you to.” Steve said calmly from the passenger seat. He was working on a crossword puzzle and didn’t bother looking up. Natalie had repeated that same phrase in different variations at least 100 times over the last 48 hours.

 

“I’m just saying.”

 

Tony could feel her burnt aura radiating out anxiously as if searching for something.

 

“We won’t ask you to Nat,” He said as cheerfully as he could, gazing out at the horizon and the endless line of trees. “Don’t worry about it.”

 

*

 

They drove straight through lunch, which was depressing but not as depressing as the sandwiches Steve pulled out of a bag he’d been hording in the front seat. Ham and Cheese. Blah. Did Steve have it out for him?

 

The country streamed past them, the same endless trees, tall, tall pines. A few times Tony had to stop and let huge Elk cross the road in front of them. He could only imagine what else lived in these woods. A person could walk into the woods here and never come out again. Never be missed. Only a handful of cars had passed them going the other way and they never saw anyone in front of them. It was almost as if they were the only three people in the world.

 

By the time they were getting low on gas, they hit a small town called Christmas.

 

“This is one of the best things I’ve ever seen,” Tony said, pumping gas and looking at the huge display of the town’s name. “I mean. Top Ten most definitely. Is that Mrs. Clause, or what?”

 

“You’re an easy pleaser.” Natalie said, before she headed into the gas station store for…whatever vampires bought there. He didn’t want to know.

 

“I think it’s cute.” Steve said, leaning carefully against Lil’s trunk and gazing out at the small, small town. It was beginning to drizzle freezing rain and the tip of Steve’s nose was turning red. They were on what was considered the main road, small colorful houses sat close together, pressed up against the mountainside. And everywhere there were tall trees, and Christmas things.

 

“You think everything is cute.” Tony said, looking away from him and squinting purposefully at the gas pump.

 

“Not everything,” Steve sounded amused. He seemed to sound amused around him a lot and Tony didn’t know how to feel about that. Mostly he just ignored it. “I definitely did not think your kelpie look was cute.”

 

“Hey now, that wasn’t purposeful believe me.” And were they seriously flirting right now? Using kelpies? How horrible. “I can’t help it if supernatural creatures find me irresistible.” The gas pump clicked off and as he turned to put the nozzle back he caught the tail end of a strange look from Steve. “What?” he pushed the _no_ button to a receipt request and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

 

“Oh,” Steve looked away but there was a very distinctive red flush spreading across his cheeks. It sent a thrill through Tony. “Nothing.”

 

“Uh huh.” Tony grinned.

 

“Alright you two, enough with the flirting, it’s making me nauseous and that shouldn’t even be possible.” Natalie was back, and holding a huge cup of coffee between her palms.

 

“Give meeeee,” Tony held out his hands but she frowned at him and pulled the cup towards her chest.

 

“This is mine,” She said bluntly. “Go get your own.”

 

“Everyone hates me.” He sighed. “Want anything?” he asked Steve but Steve just looked at him with wide eyes and shook his head silently. _Well fine then_ he thought grumpily, heading inside the little store to buy himself a cup.

 

*

 

He watched the sunset from the steps of a small house in the town of Marquette. It was gorgeous – red and a deep purple, all damp with rain. Natalie and Steve were inside, planning and talking over maps that she had pulled from somewhere. The house had belonged to one of her family members back some hundred years ago and then some. Tony suspected it may have been _her_ house but it somehow made him too sad to ask for sure.

 

Instead he stood on the old wooden front steps and watched the sun go down for what could be the last time.

 

Natalie set Steve and him up in the guest bedroom, with a jaunty “I’m taking the master bedroom down the hall, bathroom’s next door, have a goodnight,” over her shoulder. Why she needed a bed when she didn’t even sleep, Tony had no idea – and again, didn’t want to know – but he was somehow unsurprised that there was just one queen sized bed in the guest bedroom.

 

“I can sleep on the couch.” Steve offered immediately. He turned as if to go.

 

“Steve that couch was one of the most uncomfortable things I have ever sat on and that’s saying something. I think it was from the revolutionary war period, seriously.” Tony sighed and picked up a towel from the pile Natalie had placed on the bed. “We’re both grown ass men, and somewhat mature. I think we can handle a little bed sharing don’t you?”

 

Steve frowned. “I guess?” He didn’t sound too sure. “Tony really, it’s not a big deal-“

 

“No, it isn’t,” Tony agreed, gritting his teeth. He headed out into the hall. “I’m taking a shower, be back soon.”

 

 

*

 

And as he stepped under the spray, and god that felt good, he couldn’t help but feel rankled at Steve. He blew hot and cold more than anyone he’d ever met. Sure, Tony wasn’t the best catch in the world but he certainty wasn’t the worst one either, right? And it’s not like he was gonna maul Steve or anything – well unless Steve asked him too – why was the guy so fidgety sometimes? It seemed out of character for someone who was always so self-assured. Maybe it was the guy thing, maybe Tony was reading too much into the entire situation. Maybe Steve was missing Bucky and wanted Tony to fulfill the best friend role for a while. Well fine, then he wouldn’t make a move until Steve did. If Steve did.

 

“Awesome.” Tony muttered to himself, squirting some of his shampoo into his hair. His whole body ached from exhaustion and sleep debt. He missed Pepper with a sudden fierceness that surprised him and swept through his chest, leaving him short of breath and shaky. He remembered the mornings they spent together as children, and randomly, the times they had played hide and seek around the huge Stark Mansion. He closed his eyes against the sting of the shampoo and bowed his head under the stream of water.

 

And then he did something strange, something that he hadn’t done since he was very young and hiding in the big wardrobe in his father’s house with the compass.

 

He prayed.

 

*

 

When he got back into the guest room, he found Steve tucked under the sheets, sitting up against the headboard and reading.

 

“Hey,” He glanced up from his book, looking contrite. “Look about earlier…”

 

Tony held up a hand to stave off the conversation. “Hey, no worries man.” He walked over with averted eyes to the other side of the bed and got in, sighing at the feeling of soft sheets against his legs. He was wearing boxers and an undershirt but he made damn sure he didn’t check to see if Steve had bare legs going on under the covers, he was sick of tempting himself.

 

Steve was silent as Tony settled in and eventually, temptation thy name is Tony, he couldn’t help but roll over and look up at the other man. Steve was staring down at him with a peculiar look on his face as if he was aching to say something. _What is it?_ Tony asked him silently. _It’s ok, you can tell me._

 

Steve opened his mouth, closed it and then looked down at the book in his hands.

 

“Do you like Hemingway?” He asked, softly.

 

“I don’t know,” Tony noted how the light from the bedside lamp turned Steve’s eyelashes golden. “I’ve never read him.”

 

“I think you’d like him.”

 

“Well,” Tony suddenly yawned. “Read me some if you want.” He let his eyes drift shut, inexplicably saddened and feeling stupid for it.

 

After a moment, he heard the soft rustling of pages and then Steve started to read in a low voice about Cuba and the sea and an old fisherman named Santiago and Tony drifted into his own ocean of dreams.

 

 

 

*

 

 

As a child, skinned knees and tired, he’d lain in the field behind his house and watched the first stars appear. The silver of the moon - be it a heavy Harvest moon or a thin sliver, called to him in a thin song that ran beneath the song, wordless and heady, flowing through his veins as sure as blood did. Beneath that glow, Tony felt more like himself. He’d often wondered whether he was a fey creature, born in the forest under the light of a half moon before somehow stumbling into a human home. Of course he knew he’d been born at high noon, safe in a hospital in New York City.

 

But here under the night swept sky and later still, when that same sky was alive with starlight, the song buzzed under his skin with such a fervor he thought at times he might go mad with it.

 

Pepper came out to lie beside him in the grass as if she was afraid he’d disappear if she stayed inside.

 

“Mama says the stars are your pneuma.” She whispered. He turned to look at her, the curve of her face soft and pale in the darkness.

 

“I don’t know about that.”

 

When her face began to turn towards him, he looked back at the sky.

 

The Milky Way glimmered brightly, pools of liquid fire burning themselves out billions and billions of miles away. Entire galaxies seemed the size of a pinprick or smaller still. He could hear the humming of the bugs calling to each other and Pepper’s soft breathing. After a moment, she spoke:

 

“I do.”

 

*

 

Tony opened his eyes. It was sometime in early dawn, judging by the rose pink light just barely filtering in between the curtains. He rolled over and paused. Steve was asleep next to him, so close that Tony could feel every breath as he exhaled. Could feel the soft brush of Steve’s bare leg against his own. He really did have remarkably long eyelashes for a man.

 

Tony let himself look for precisely two minutes – he counted – and then he made himself roll over and get out of bed. He shuffled to the window and looked out between the curtains. The road was softly lit with the glow of the streetlights and in the distance he could see Lake Superior as the sun began to gleam off the water.

 

“Tony?” Steve’s voice was hoarse with sleep and Tony closed his eyes and swallowed.

 

“Yea?” He cleared his throat. “You can sleep a little longer if you need to.”

 

“I’m alright.” He could hear Steve moving, sitting up in bed probably, and the soft sound of feet hitting carpet. “Actually, I think I may go take a shower.”

 

“Go ahead,” Tony murmured, looking at the lake. “You’ve got time.”

 

*

 

It took four hours driving down dirt roads to get to there. Tony wouldn’t even have spotted the turn off without Natalie’s direction. Hours of wilderness and then suddenly, a clearing. He rolled Lil to a stop and the three of them sat in silence for a moment, looking through the windshield. The lake stood before them, a vast span of water.

 

“I guess we should get going.” Tony said, squinting at the sky. It was mid afternoon, but you wouldn’t know it by the thick cloud coverage. The lack of sunlight cast everything into shadow and the thick trees didn’t help.

 

“Yea,” Steve creaked open the door, and stepped out, standing tall against the car. Tony looked over at him for a moment before sighing and following suit. Natalie followed last, casting them both a pensive look before leading the way to the water’s edge.

 

Purgatory stood upon an island, cloaked heavy with trees. Fog lay thick over the water and there were strange glowing lights floating throughout it. From the shores of the mainland, the island was barely visible unless one knew where to look.

 

Luckily, Natalie knew where to look.

 

“There,” She said pointing at a set of oddly flickering lights riddled throughout the water. Under the overcast sky they shown a sickly blue grey. “That bunch there, that’s the dock.”

 

“You’re sure?” Tony’s voice was soft from where he was crouched by the water’s edge, frowning. “There’s a lot of lights out there.”

 

“Yea.” Natalie squinted down at him, frowning. “As sure as I can be. It’s been 30 years.”

 

“So not really.” Tony could practically feel Steve rolling his eyes behind his back, but when he turned the man was as stoic as ever gazing placidly across the lake with his hands in his pockets.

 

“About 90%,” Natalie bit out. “But if you have a better idea, by all means let’s hear it.”

 

“Enough squabbling,” Steve moved make his way past them. “Natalie, can you take us to the boat?”

 

“Right.” She said, moving past Tony, and flashing her eyes at him in a glare. “You should endeavor to reach the other side before tomorrow’s daybreak.”

 

“What happens at daybreak?” Tony asked, trudging behind her through the heavy mud that clung to his worn boots with every step.

 

“You don’t want to know,” was all she bothered to say, over her shoulder.

 

“Well that’s comforting.” Tony grumped to himself. Steve as always was silent but for a look as he trekked through the mire.

 

Natasha led them to where the water lay still and pooled shallow, lapping wetly against the twisted reeds that lined the shore. There among the slippery rocks floated what could loosely be considered a boat, tied to a dead tree. For a moment, she stood looking across the water but soon enough she bent to untie the boat with steady hands.

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Tony nudged the rickety thing with the tip of his muddied boot. It rocked ominously, some dark water splashing inside.

 

“It floats.” Natasha intoned blandly, tossing the rope to him.

 

“There’s no way-“

 

“Thank you Natasha,” Steve cut in. “This should be fine.”

 

Tony threw his arms up.

 

 

*

 

The boat did float, if only just. As they pushed off the bank the mist swiftly engulfed Nat’s small figure and her raised hand as she bid them farewell. Tony frowned before turning to look out at the black water.

 

 

 

Steve was steering at the bow with a half rotten stick that served as a makeshift paddle. Tony had briefly argued with him but in the end had grumpily agreed to serve as lookout, although what sort of lookout he would serve to be in the thick fog he didn’t know.

 

The rain began some twenty feet from the shoreline. It was a strange rain, almost unpleasantly warm and heavy. Both of them were soaked in minutes and Tony was forced to hold a hand over his eyes as he squinted, watching the lights that continued to blaze despite the rain.

 

“What are they?” He asked over his shoulder to Steve, who seemed unbothered by the wet.

 

“I’m not quite certain,” He mused, switching the paddle to his other hand. “They could be tokens for the dead, or grave sites for sunken boats. Maybe they’re guide lights intended to trick unwary travelers out into the lake.”

 

“Awesome.” Tony leaned back from the edge as they gave one such light a wide birth. The boat creaked ominously. He shivered as he imagined dark things crawling along the floor of the lake, creatures writhing in silent agony, shadowy fingers twisting, reaching upwards with longing towards the spine of the boat.

 

“It’s alright,” Steve’s quiet voice cut in, as it always did when Tony’s mind tried to escape him. “You’ll be fine, just stay in the boat.”

 

But the lake stretched ever on, unnaturally large and the island an ever-colossal shadow in the distance. Hours passed until finally Steve pulled the oar out of the water and frowned.

 

“What is it?” Tony asked even though he thought he knew. At times Steve seemed preternaturally strong, almost like a machine. But Tony knew even he had to reach a breaking point.

 

“I need to rest,” Steve said softly, frowning down at his hands.

 

“No problem, I can take over for a bit.” Tony tried to pitch his voice to a cheerful level. “Come on, you can’t expect me to just sit here and let our boat float off course. All your work will have been for nothing.” and we could run into one of those creepy ass light things he didn’t add.

 

Steve sighed. He was probably thinking the same thing. “Fine.” He handed over the oar in such a begrudging manner that Tony felt hysterical laughter bubbling up inside of him.

 

He glanced down at the half rotten stick. It really was pathetic. Then he sighed and set to work. After a few minutes Steve offered to tell him about what happened in _the old man and the sea_ and Tony tried hard not to think about sharks as he listened to Steve’s soothing voice settle around him.

 

*

 

Eventually, what felt like an eon later to his sore shoulders, the boat drifted into the shallows on the other side, thick reeds and mud sticking to its bottom and halting their sluggish progress. Steve took the oar back to try and push off the bottom but it was too flimsy to heave them forward by more than a few inches. Finally he sighed and stepped out of the boat, grimacing as the water went up to his waist. Tony watched with wide eyes.

 

“You. Are insane.” His hands clenched so hard on the side of the boat he bent the rotting wood. He tried very hard not to think about sharks, or the creepy dead things that were surely creeping about on the bottom of the lake.

 

Steve cast him an amused look even as he grabbed the side of the boat, on either side of Tony’s hands, and hauled it swiftly onto the shore. “There,” Steve stepped back. “You’re safe now.”

 

“Har har.” Tony stepped over the side and rubbed his hands against his jeans. He looked out towards the tall trees that started some fifty feet from the shoreline; gravel stones giving way to moss and dirt and roots.

 

Under the cover of the tree line, Tony paused. “So. Now that we’re here. What’s the plan exactly?” Natalie had mentioned something about a series of stone buildings, each older than the next that lay scattered throughout out the inner island. _Be wary,_ was the last thing she had said to them, _nothing on that island is as it seems. You misstep, you’ll lose anything you think you knew about yourself. And remember what I said about daybreak.”_

_“What about it?”_ Tony had asked.

 

_“If you’re caught in the middle of the lake when it hits, the island takes it’s due.”_

Those words rang in his ear, but for all he heard them; he couldn’t fully understand what they meant. Whatever it was, the anguish in Natalie’s eyes concerned him. Deeply.

 

Steve pursed his lips in thought, after a moment he glanced at Tony. “I guess we start walking?” He suggested, cutting into his thoughts.

 

If the situation weren’t so wacked, Tony would be tempted to laugh. Instead he found himself biting back a surprising amount of frustration and following Steve’s bright hair as the other man led them deeper into the woods.

 

They walked in silence for some time, each caught up in their own thoughts. Tony for one was almost too nervous to speak. There were creatures on this island, monsters from a long forgotten age. Biblical, pagan, it didn’t matter. According to Nat, they all ended up here. And somewhere on this island could be Bucky, could be _Pepper._

 

For hours they walked, until the trees grew thin and wasted. Eventually, Tony had to call a break and leaned miserably against a tree. He would kill for a drink right now.

 

“I’m officially beat.” He groaned, sinking down to a squat. The ground under his boots was coated in a layer of leaves.

 

“Take a moment,” Steve said from where he was still standing tall, eyes fixed to some point ahead of him. “I’m going to scout ahead a ways.”

 

“Are you insane?” Tony stood and grabbed Steve’s arm just as he began to walk away. “You heard Nat, if we get separated here, we may never find each other again. Just give me like 10 minutes and I’ll be good to go.”

 

“Tony,” Steve smiled gently at him, even as he pulled his arm out of Tony’s grip. “You need more than 10 minutes. And it’ll be fine, I’ll come find you.”

 

“And what if I need to find you?” Tony grumped, leaning back against the tree.

 

“Use your compass, Tony.” Steve said, over his shoulder. Then he’s gone, figure enveloped in the sickly trees and fog, bizarre silvery aura winking out like the end of a candle. Leaving Tony to dig his fingers in the tree bark behind him, mind buzzing.

 

*

 

Tony found the compass when he was very young – around six, he thought it must have been. He was - well. Perhaps it was better to start at the beginning.

 

Maria Stark had been a remarkable witch. He’d read this in the obits when he was older, he fuzzily recalled people telling this to his father as they shook his hand that rainy day in the graveyard. Her aura had been almost starlike and she’d never failed to initiate – or complete – any spell.

 

What’s more, she had been quite a remarkable mother.

 

In the days after her death, the likes of which still remained greatly a mystery, one that Tony and Pepper had been explicitly forbidden to talk about growing up, Tony had roamed the house like a ghost child. His father had jettisoned to Europe, to one of the great stone laboratories, his sister had been sent to a boarding school upstate and it was just him, left alone to wander the great cold halls of the unfriendly Stark mansion.

 

One night, when he hadn’t been able to sleep, he wandered into the room with the wardrobe. It was an innocuous thing for all its grandeur; wood so dark and old it was almost black, strange curling carvings along the outside of it. Somehow though, Tony thought it emitted a gentleness and warmth. He found himself reaching up on tip toes to pull open one of the doors and crawl inside.

 

There amid his mother’s fur coats and pressed dresses, he found a box. _Tony tony_ the box seemed to say _open me, please_

He’d bit his lip, but ultimately it had taken very little convincing for him to slip the lid off. Inside, nestled amid soft crinkly white tissue paper, was a brass compass. It shouldn’t have been visible in the dark wardrobe but it seemed to glow with a soft pearlescent light. Tony picked it up, with his chubby hands and looked into its face and then he had started to cry because somehow, he had thought he’d seen his mother looking back at him.

 

When he’d gathered himself, hiccupping, he’d looked back into the compass but there was nothing, just an old needle, twirling itself around and around. _Please_ he’d thought then, with the eagerness of a child _please let me see her again, please please. Oh please._ He’d closed his eyes and begged. _Just one more time and I won’t ask for anything, please pleaseplease._

But when he’d opened his eyes again there had been nothing but the broken needle. He’d cried again for a while after that, eventually falling asleep, holding the thing close against him and curled up in his mother’s favorite mink coat.

 

In the morning, he’d crawled back out of the wardrobe, but he’d kept the compass ever since, despite it being seemingly broken, he’d kept it on him always, in his pocket. But he’d never told anyone about it.

 

 _So how the fuck_ , He thought now, staring after Steve with wide eyes. His heart was racing. _How the fuck did he know about it._ He did indeed have the compass in his pocket, carrying it with him as he had since he’d discovered it.

 

His mind flew rapidly through different scenarios in a desperate attempt to make sense of the situation: had Steve seen him take it out of his pocket at night? Had Steve seen him look at it discretely while following him and Natalie through the woods? Had Steve snooped through his stuff while he’d showered and seen it then? But even if Steve _had_ seen it, how the hell would that explain Steve’s expectation for Tony to use the compass to find _him_. Even if the compass wasn’t broken – which even after years of tinkering with it, it still was much to Tony’s chagrin– that’s not how compasses worked. No, as much as Tony’s mind rebelled against it, an unsettled, cold feeling began to sweep through him. Steve must have known about the compass somehow, and must know how it worked.

 

Somehow.

 

Tony leaned against the tree for a long time, squinting into the shifting shadows, hand curled around the compass in his pocket. He didn’t know how much time had passed before the sound of crunching leaves came to him. He stiffened, holding his breath and despite his anger, something relaxed within him when he caught sight of Steve’s bright hair through the trees.

 

“There’s a building about 4 miles ahead of us,” Steve said quietly, when he made it to Tony’s tree. He was still looking behind him. “We can make camp there for the night.”

 

“How did you know?” Tony asked quietly, not moving.

 

“Know?” Steve turned towards him, with a confused smile. “Well, I guess it could be a little more than 4, I admit I mostly-“

 

“About my compass,” Tony cut him off, folding his arms across his chest tightly. “I never told anyone about that.”

 

Steve’s mouth pulled tight and any form of amusement that always swirled around him dissipated. “I…” He shut his mouth.

 

“I want the truth.” Tony’s gut churned when Steve looked at him with wide, dark eyes. “I’m sick of you lying to me.”

“I never lied to you Tony,” He said quietly. “I would never do that.”

 

“Omission is still lying,” Tony said through gritted teeth. “Now. How did you know?”

 

“Tony.” Steve’s shoulders slumped and he suddenly looked so sad that Tony almost said _never mind never mind,_ somehow afraid to know what it was that pushed down on Steve’s shoulders. His breath caught, but he had to know. He had to so he swallowed and said nothing as Steve gathered himself.

 

“Tony,” Steve spread his hands. “Tony I keep hoping that I wouldn’t have to explain this, hoping that maybe you would look at me and just know. Don’t you know?” He let his hands fall but his bluer than blue eyes bore into Tony. “Don’t you know?” He whispered.

 

Tony’s breath was tight in his chest and he watched Steve and he thought about Steve’s strange aura, the silvery almost incandescent at times, thing that swirled around him unreadable, he thought about the autumn voice that had called to him as he rolled into Sleepy Hollow, and the strange light that had seared his eyelids that night with the kelpie, he remembered the weird way Steve was around food, the way he avidly read books like he hadn’t been able to read in a long time, the way he seemed to know what to say to Tony to calm him, to still him, to make him breath as if he knew him somehow-

 

“What are you?” Tony asked, digging his back into the rough bark of the tree. He asked, but he didn’t really want to know.

 

“Tony,” Steve’s voice was low and sad, somehow tired. “I’m an angel, Tony. I’ve been watching you for a long time, since you were a little boy.” His face went soft as he spoke. “I remember the day you found that compass, you were so small. So sad.” His velvet eyes never left Tony’s face. “You used to speak to me you know, when you were very young.”

 

Tony had a glimmer of a memory then, speaking to a figure who sat on the side of his bed at night sometimes after a bad dream. It should have been a creepy thought; the form of a stranger at his bedside, but the figure had been soft and warm – a beam of light with blue eyes and a humming voice.

 

“I remember,” He choked out. “I remember you now.” But even as the words left his mouth, he could feel the anger boiling up like bitterness or the blood that waits to pool up in a festering wound. Steve had known him this whole time, Steve wasn’t even _human_ what the hell was he doing playing at being a cop? What the hell had he been doing this whole time-

 

 

“Have you just been fucking with me then?” He snarled out, suddenly so angry he could barely see straight. “You’ve lied to me this whole time-“

 

“I wanted you to like me,” Steve’s voice caught. “I didn’t want to scare you.”

 

“Scare me?” Tony felt like a fool, mind flashing back to all the times he’d thought about Steve; his eyes, his broad hands and long fingers, the way he laughed. How he’d held his breath as their legs had rubbed together in bed, oh god how he’d prayed in the shower – he felt sick. “I trusted you. You lied to me.” Could he read minds? Had he heard Tony crying out through prayer that night in the shower? No wonder he’d looked so contrite when Tony had walked back into the bedroom.

“I never meant to,” Steve’s eyes were wet. “I only wanted to protect you.”

 

“Can you read my mind?” Tony’s lips felt numb, but he forced the question out. “Do I have any privacy at all from you? Have you been listening to me think this whole time?”

“No, no I can’t!” Steve’s mouth was pinched so tightly it was white against the already stark pallor of his face. “I can only hear you when you speak to me.”

 

Answered that question then. Tony thought very clearly _fuck you_ , and barked out a laugh when Steve flinched.

 

“You have to understand-“

 

“I have to.” Tony cut in coldly. “I don’t think so.”

 

“Everything I ever did was only to protect you,” Steve said in that earnest way of his. For however much it had been endearing before it was now, suddenly unbearable.

 

“Steve,” Tony bit out. “Please, please just go.”

 

 

 

 

“Go?”  Steve’s face grew so pale that for a moment Tony was worried he’d pass out, but then he remembered that Steve couldn’t pass out and the anger grew in him again. “I won’t leave you, Tony. Not here.”

 

“Fine,” Tony bit out. “Then I’ll go.” And when he turned to go and Steve grabbed at his arm, Tony jerked away so violently he miss-stepped. “ _Don’t_ ,” he gasped out, “Don’t touch me.” As he stumbled his way as fast as he could through the trees he thought back as fiercely as he could **_Don’t follow me_.**

He didn’t know what the MO was on angels (fuck his life, Steve was an angel he was such an idiot) but he figured they had to be good right? Right? **_Don’t follow me_** , he thought again, desperately as he ran through the trees, half crawled up a steep hill and found himself suddenly, innocuously at the edge of a wide plain of low cut grass. And there, parked some mere feet from him was Lilac.

 

“What the fuck?” He stood for a minute, breathing heavily, eyes suspiciously wet. For a moment his mind was entirely blank, refusing to compute but slowly he recalled Natalie. “Nothing is as it seems.” He whispered, walking slowly towards the car.

 

On closer inspection, there was no way the Camaro was Lilac. Tony felt somewhat embarrassed he’d been fooled even for that moment. They were awfully close, as if whoever or whatever had made the car appear had seen a picture of Lil, or maybe rode in her one time, but this car was too clean, too perfect looking.

 

Still, it was a car, and Tony could see now, the faint markings indicating a road in the distance, across the field. When he pulled open the door of the car, the keys were in the ignition. For a moment he stood and silently debated with himself: it probably wasn’t the wisest decision to take this car, it could be a trap, Steve would say-

 

But that thought just caused the anger to flood back and he decided, fuck it, and got into the car, turned the key and drove towards the road.

 

*

 

He drove endlessly. Beyond the tomblike rattle of the car and through the thick glass windows there was nothing but trees. Tony didn’t see another being – creature or otherwise – for hours. Eventually, he grew tired of driving and side eyeing the gas gauge (that somehow still read full) he pulled the camaro to the side of the road.

 

For a moment he sat, clenching his hands around the steering wheel, trying to think of Pepper but having his mind unerringly drawn back to the conversation earlier that day, or the day before. Or whenever it had been. Time seemed to move both slow and fast at the same time; it boggled the mind.

 

Finally he sighed and got out of the car. Outside, the air was thick and muggy. Tony shuffled his way across the gravel and into the tall grass, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the compass. It’s metal was warm in his hand, a comforting buzz against his palm. He cradled it between his hands, closed his eyes and thought: _let this compass help me find, the safest road to what is mine. Pepper. Pepper_ , his mind said. _Point me to her._ He thought of her red hair, and the way she teased him. And home and family. But when he opened his eyes, the needle was still spinning in a circle.

 

It never stopped, no matter how many times he tried the spell.

 

 

*

 

How was it possible to live life as a small speck of dust in an infinite universe? In his dream he was sitting on the hood of his old Camaro, staring up at the sky. The light of the stars felt cold and distant against his face, but still he looked at every star he could spot, searching-

 

*

 

As is with everything; the feeling faded with time.

 

When he awoke, eyes sticky with sleep crud, the world was awash in white. There was a set of fresh footprints leading across the road right in front of his car.

 

Purgatory had settled into winter, it seemed, while he dreamt. He sat up, stiff with the cold that had permeated into the metal car. His breath came out hot as he blew into his hands. He watched the snow fall, thick until it began to cover the footprints. Then, he grabbed his thick down winter jacket from the passenger seat – how that had gotten there he didn’t want to know – and fumbled with the door handle. The snow crunched crisply under his boots when he set off after the footprints.

 

It was a stupid idea he knew, but something pushed him forward. Maybe it was the prints themselves, so obviously human _man_ boots, the tread like something you could by at the mall. Those prints weren’t made from a monster, they couldn’t have been. _And they’re too small to be steve’s_ a little voice inside his mind betrayed him. As he walked, there was a screeching cry and he looked up at the dark carrion birds circling overhead and pecking viciously at each other. He supposed he should be nervous, but he was too weary to do much more than shake his head.

 

Eventually it got to the point where the snow had covered the trail but when Tony glanced up, he saw a small building, like some sort of old factory, inexplicably half collapsing against a hillside. The snow was thickening and Tony sighed, wishing not for the first time that Natalie had let them at least try to bring a weapon across the lake. Then, he headed inside, brushing the snow from his hair as he did so.

 

*

 

And then he woke up, feeling like his head had been shoved in with a shovel. Or a large log, or a metal pipe or – whatever, he didn’t even care.

 

“Ughh.” Tony reached out blindly for a wall and half crawled over to lean against it. He reached up to gently cup his forehead. “My head.” He gasped. He felt his eyeballs were about to explode.

 

“I wouldn’t make too much noise if I were you,” A bland voice called out from the other corner. Abruptly, all the hairs on Tony’s body stood on end and he jerked his head up, almost passing out at the pain it caused him.

 

“Who’s there?” He gritted his teeth together.

 

“I told you, you should keep it down.” Came the voice, still bland and gritty now like it was somehow amused despite itself.

 

“Who the fuck are you?” Tony whispered harshly. He tried to squint into the room but it was so dark, he couldn’t make out much more than a shadow of the shape of yes, yes there it moved – it was a man.

 

“Who am I?” The man said, softly as if to himself. Tony didn’t care if he’d started some internal existential crisis – he just wanted an answer. He watched through slitted eyes that were slowly adjusting. He could see the strange flicker of the man’s eyes now, like onyx stones.

 

“I’m Tony.” He said softly, clearing his throat.

 

“Hello Tony,” The man said after a moment. “My name’s Bruce.”

 

*

 

“I’ve been here a long time.” Bruce said some time later. They’d scooted together along the cold wall and now sat shoulder to shoulder.  The room they were in was some kind of salted meat cellar, Tony had figured out although what kind of meat was on the giant hooks hanging from the ceiling he didn’t want to know. Whoever, or whatever had put them both in here hadn’t deigned to return.

 

“How long?” Tony’s lips were starting to go numb. Next to him Bruce shifted, and when he looked over the other man was rubbing absently at his chest.

 

“I’m not sure,” He said quietly. “I…I remember coming to the island looking for something but then,” he shrugged. “I can’t even remember what it was.”

 

Must have been a long time ago, Tony thought. For him to have forgotten himself. He thought about Pepper then, fiercely. Then strangely of the look on Natalie’s face and her warning about losing yourself.

 

 _Steve, I was so stupid._  But even as he thought that he felt a swell of anger grow in him. It hadn’t even been a day – or couldn’t have been much more than a day – since he’d last seen Steve and already he was breaking the promise he’d made to himself about thinking towards him. He pulled his knees up towards his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

 

“I’m sorry.” He said eventually, to his knees. He felt Bruce slump down next to him.

 

“For what?” Bruce asked quietly.

 

“That you forgot.”

 

 

*

 

 

They sat that way, for a while. Until Tony’s hands went cold, felt like pins and needles ran through them instead of blood. They sat until he could no longer feel them at all. Bruce breathed steadily next to him and Tony thought, _yes_ and _maybe we’ll die here_ and _can you die in purgatory?_ and _if you’re human and you die in purgatory where do you go_ and _steve, I’m so cold I’m-_

“Someone’s coming,” Bruce was sitting up straight, standing then, a strangely tall dark figure in a blur of even more darkness. “Don’t move.”

 

 _Not a problem_ , Tony thought hazily, _I think I’m frozen_

 

“-told you I’d found something tasty.” A nasally voice was saying.

 

“Good job sugar.” The girl’s voice was sultry. Bruce stepped further in front of Tony and through squinty eyes, Tony thought his form grew taller.

 

“Stay where you are.” Bruce said softly. “I’m warning you.”

 

They laughed, Tony could hear them walking closer, footsteps echoing oddly throughout the room.

 

“You’re warning us sugar,” The girl said. “You clearly don’t know what we are.” They were right in front of Bruce now and- 

 

They surge forward, all at once but then- Bruce was there, or what was Bruce, now something else, quick and strange. But Tony was dizzy and he closed his eyes.

 

“Tony. Tony, wake up. Tony.” His eyes felt like heavy weights as he dragged them open. He was lying outside, the sun somehow a bright beacon, snow all around him. Bruce was kneeling next to him, haloed.

 

“Is that blood?” Tony slurred, slowly sitting up. Bruce sat back on his heels.

 

“Yea,” He said quietly, looking down at his hands. “I…I killed them.”

 

Tony rubbed his fingers together. They were tingling; the feeling was starting to come back, despite the cold. He glanced up. He could see Bruce clearly now: a salt and peppered man with a tired face. He didn’t look like a monster.

 

“You saved us,” He said. “besides, everyone here is a monster.”

 

“You’re not.” Bruce glanced up at him, mouth curling in a sardonic grin. “I can smell you, you’re human.”

 

“Wow, that’s not discerning at all,” Tony cleared his throat. Bruce looked away again. “You saved us.” Tony repeated. But they weren’t saved. Not really.

 

*

 

They backtrack, but the Camaro was gone. Maybe it was never there to begin with.

 

Tony stood in the field and looked up at the sky. It was still snowing, big flakes coming down. Piling up to his knees. Bruce was at the tree line, watching. The sun, it seemed, was finally beginning to set.

 

Sluggishly, Tony pulled the compass out of his pocket. The metal was so cold it stuck to his fingers. He fumbled it open. _All I want_ he thought, mind numb with the cold, eyes heavy with fatigue. He looked down and for a moment stood dumb, but – no. The needle wasn’t moving.

 

“I think,” He rasped, hesitant. As if speaking would make the little arrow spin. He cleared his throat. “I think I got it.”

 

 _It’s West,_ he thought. _Of course._  

 

He ran as fast as he could through the snow to Bruce who was shivering under the cover of the trees. Together they turned to follow the sinking sun.

 

*

 

“Hey-hey, wake up.”

 

He jerked up, surprised. When had he fallen asleep? Snow coated his shoulders and hair; he shook his head but it had crystalized. His hands felt like blocks of ice when he reached to rub his gritty eyes, looking up as he did so.

 

Pepper was squatting in front of him, frowning.

 

“Augh!” He tried to stand up, but his legs were numb. “Pepper? Pepper, is that really you?” He reached out and she took his hands in her warm ones.

 

“Yea Tony, it’s really me.” She was still frowning. Tony’s eyes raked over her form: she wore a thick coat with a hood pulled over her face, fur boots and pants. How she’d found those supplies he didn’t know but he was so thankful his breath felt thick in his throat.

 

“Come here.” He gasped, and then they were hugging arms tight around each other. “How did you find me?” He whispered into her shoulder.

 

“It’s funny,” She said, into his. “I was running, down this rocky slope away from these really freaky monsters – they’re called Leviathan, I’ll tell you about them later – when suddenly out of nowhere, this guy came out and saved me.” She pulled back, crouching in front of him again. “Of course you know him,” She smirked. “Steve. Anyway, he found me and then- he found you.”

 

Steve. This time when Tony tried to stand again, Pepper helped him. He leaned against her, and looked around. There was a small fire close by, and beyond that two figures talking quietly. One shorter and hunched, one tall and broad. Bruce and Steve. Tony’s breath stuttered.

 

“I recognized him, you know.” Pepper was saying quietly. “From Brooklyn.”

 

Tony turned back to her, frowning. But Pepper’s eyes were on Steve.

  
“It was the night Howard died.” She said. “I was just a kid then, but I knew you had gone out to drink away your thoughts. I didn’t think you’d come back that night but I heard a noise downstairs. Must have been real late, like three or four am. Anyway, you were…a wreck, you couldn’t even walk, Tony. But you didn’t have to cause he,” and here she tilted her chin in Steve’s direction, her voice wobbly. “He was practically carrying you.”

 

Tony didn’t remember that. He remembered the phone call, remembered making Pepper dinner then going out, the rain of New York cold against his cheeks. The burn of the whisky like acid in his throat. He remembered drinking, and drinking. Remembered how nice it was to put his face in a puddle just for a minute to cool it off. Maybe more than a minute. He’d been so tired. He remembered waking up in his bed the next morning feeling strangely light; no headache and without the empty ache in his belly.

 

He followed her gaze and Steve, who was still talking to Bruce about something that involved a lot of hand movement, glanced at them for a second. He’d undoubtedly heard their conversation.

 

It had been him. This whole time, it had been him. He’d known this, since their confrontation but this was the first time he thought about it without anger fizzing up inside him. Instead, he felt oddly light as he hugged Pepper again.

 

“Thank you for telling me.” He said.

 

“Thank you for coming to find me.” She said back.

 

*

 

 

They moved as quickly as they could, following Steve who seemed to know the direction towards the rickety boat. Tony couldn’t say how long it took to get there, but he felt exhausted by the time they reached the black water. It was warm again, and strange purple and white flowers were blooming along the bank.

 

The four of them stood around the boat. This was the part Tony had dreaded. Mostly because he knew how it was going to end.

 

“Tony, Pepper, get in the boat.” Steve was saying, expression like stone when he turned to Tony. For the first time, he didn’t look human. His beauty cold, and far removed.

 

They argued. Of course they did. Tony felt the anger he thought had burnt out, rev up like a flame from the ether. It had the sour taste of desperation, and fear.

 

They got in the boat. Of course they did. Steve would never have allowed for anything less. Bruce hadn’t bothered arguing, his arms were folded across his chest and he was staring out as if he could see the other side of the lake despite the fog making that impossible.

 

“We’ll be fine.” Steve lied, as the boat began to move away – Pepper taking the helm with the little stick. “You’ll see.”

 

As they got further away from shore, Steve seemed to glow, like a beacon. Flickering like one of the strange false lights. Tony watched him, mouth pinched until he was a small figure, a shadow, then the mist ate him and he was nothing at all.

 

Then he put his face in his hands and listened to the water lap hungrily at the side of the boat.

 

*

Pepper didn’t talk to him, knowing he needed the space. Tony agonized, staring steadfast in the opposite direction of purgatory. _I should have at least said goodbye not fought like a jackass._ He bit his lip, hard. His eyes burned but his body didn’t have anything left to give.

 

Eventually, he took over the rowing and Pepper curled up and fell asleep in the belly of their little boat. He rowed until his arms burned and then he rowed some more, self hatred and bitterness fueling him. The mist had cleared and the stars shown oddly bright in the midnight sky. He didn’t know what time it was, but Natalie’s warning rang once again in his mind.  

 

His arms were numb when he finally spotted mainland. But that sighting sent a burst of adrenaline through him and somehow, almost as if they had gone through a wormhole, their boat hit the silt marking the shallows in what felt like mere seconds after that.

 

Pepper woke with a gasp, and then Tony was grabbing her arm and yanking the both of them out of the boat, and up onto the shore. They lay like that, splayed out on their backs panting, hands clasped tightly. They lay like that until the sun crept over the horizon. Then they stood up.

 

Tony wasn’t expecting Natalie to be waiting for them, but when they reached the road there she was, sitting behind the wheel of Lil and staring at them through the windshield with wide eyes.

 

“Lil,” Pepper ran her hand over the front of the Camaro as Natalie creaked the door open and got out. “I missed you.”

 

“Tony.” Natalie nodded at Pepper before turning to him. “That was fast.”

 

“Fast?” Tony barked a strange laugh. “We were gone for days.” Not we. Not anymore.

 

Natalie didn’t remark on his mistake, or ask where Steve was, thank god. She just nodded after a moment, eyes solemn. “It was only a handful of hours over here. Time has no meaning on that island. I told myself I would wait a day for you. Welcome back.”

 

Tony forced a tight nod before sliding into the driver’s seat and running shaky, dirty hands, over the steering wheel.

 

“Hey honey,” he whispered. “I’m back.”

 

*

 

They intended to stay only a week with Natalie but somehow that week stretched into two, stretched into a month. The days dragged by like molasses in summertime.

 

Clint had effectively taken over Tony’s base and he was pretty sure Phil had moved in with him. But it didn’t bother him, in fact, nothing really seemed to bother him much. He knew Pepper was worried with the amount of time he spent tinkering aimlessly under Lil but he couldn’t make himself do anything else. Natalie was like another version of him; a ghost, but one that moved unpredictably, one that departed for days before showing up, inexplicably dressed in cocktail attire, at the breakfast table.

 

“Rhodey says hi,” Pepper’s feet were just visible from where he was laying under the car. “I told him you were busy but you can’t keep dodging him every time he calls.”

 

“Thanks Pep.” Tony mumbled through the wrench in his mouth. He held his breath as she hmm’d and walked back towards the house before sighing. He could tell she’d be leaving soon, going back to New York. And that was good, he was glad. But anytime he thought about leaving he felt nothing but panic well up inside of him.

 

He worked for a few more hours before going inside to lay down.

 

The next day he was under Lil’s hood, contemplating whether or not he should replace the air filter when he heard Pepper scream. He sprinted around the side of the house as fast as he could and skidded to a halt.

 

In front of him Pepper was standing with her hands over her mouth. On the ground, Steve and Bruce were lying in a heap.

 

“…How?” Tony ran to the two of them, rolling them over. Pepper went to Bruce as Tony gently lifted Steve’s head onto his lap. He was breathing, but very faintly and his aura it was a very faint very pale blue.

 

“What did you do?” Tony whispered over him and Steve’s eyes opened.

 

For a moment they did nothing but look at each other, Steve’s generous mouth curling up into a small grin.

 

“It worked,” He said hoarsely, hand reaching up to cover Tony’s own. “I wasn’t sure it would.”

 

“You’re not an angel anymore,” Tony leaned down, until he could feel Steve exhaling against his face. “You’re human.”

 

“Yes.” Steve’s eyes were very blue from this close, like the wide open sky.

 

“I’m sorry.” Tony wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for, but then, it didn’t seem to matter because they were kissing. They stayed that way, mouths pressed together until Natalie’s broken voice reached them.

 

“Bruce?” She was saying. And when Tony reluctantly pulled away from Steve to look up, he watched with astonishment as her face crumpled and she started to cry.

 

*

 

It was almost a happy ending, then. Except for Bucky. In the months that followed, Tony eventually gave in and reclaimed his posting much to Clint’s chagrin. Pepper had moved back to New York, Natalie – Natasha was her real name, it turned out – had been reunited with Bruce.

 

Steve seemed content enough, as a human. He spent his days in the back garden, coaxing the plants to life. Tony’s pepper plant loved him. He was patient, kind and so beautiful it hurt to look at him. And his love for Tony shown out of him like a beacon. They’d talked, eventually about what had happened in Purgatory. Steve had apologized again, Tony had apologized again. They had both apologized until it felt like they were apologizing for apologizing. Then they moved on.

 

But sometimes Tony caught him in that moment when his thoughts were flicking to Bucky, and his aura grew dark and cold like a steel grey thunderhead. It wasn’t often, but Tony knew those moments would only grow with time. Tony watched Steve as he slept that night wondering at the man who given up so much for him.

 

 

 

 

Together they were warm skin against warm skin, under the covers. It was everything Tony could have asked for and nothing he deserved. He brushed that burnished hair back and pressed a gentle kiss to Steve’s forehead, then he snuck out of bed and went to go find a little box.

 

He knew what he had to do. He’d just been too cowardly before.

 

*

“And what makes you think I’d want anything to do with you,” The thing smiled, blood red lipstick matching the flash of its eyes. Teeth gleamed like a shark’s in the night as it walked to the center of the crossroads.

 

“Oh you want me,” Tony drawled through clenched teeth. His jaw ached, and he forced his hands to relax at his sides. “I can smell it on you.” The thick waft of pink lust clouded around the thing like a thick fog. Mixed with the sharp scent of sulfur, it was viscous and nauseating and unavoidable. Tony’s stomach churned. He shifted his feet in the dirt.

 

The demon tilted its head back and laughed, blond curls falling around its shoulders. It was blond and beautiful and blue eyed. Just his type. Almost funny how they did that.

 

“Well,” It said, grinning at Tony as it tilted its head coyly. “It just so happens you’re right.”

 

 

*

 

 

Tony drove back to the compound in a haze. He thought about Pepper that first night back at Natalie’s: how she’d fallen asleep curled up by the fire with her small scarred hands tucked up under her chin. He thought about Steve and the look in his eyes as Tony said he had somewhere to be, that morning over coffee. He thought of Steve and the weight of his hand against Tony’s shoulder, the back of his neck, gentle fingers skimming the shell of his ear soft as down feathers. Thought of Steve and the way he made love to Tony as if he was something special.

 

Somehow in the end, it was always him. Had always been, for as long as Tony’s memory served him. The faded stranger that night on the sidewalk, the friendly man who helped him home when he was stumbling down drunk, it was Steve who had answered his thoughtless prayers, who had saved him that first night out on the cold dark Hudson and again in the thick verdant forests of Purgatory. Saved him in the only way that counted. It was then, unquestionably, worth it.

 

The horizon stretched out in front of him, the breach of the sun limning the edge of the world in bright gold. Red dust from the desert swept across the dirt road, and Tony felt like he was looking through the windshield of good ol’ Lil from somewhere very far away.

 

 _Well_ , he thought. _That wasn’t so bad._

 

The End

 

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so you may be asking yourself: Tony sold his soul to find Bucky. Now what? What the heck is with these dream sequences? WHO took pepper and does it have to do with anything? (it does) Well I realized I couldn't actually eek out everything I wanted to in the timeframe given so this is just gonna have to be the first of a series! Thanks for tuning in to pt 1!
> 
> song Lil uses: Bob Seger's "Still the same"
> 
> also for inquiring minds, Pneuma (πνεῦμα) is an ancient Greek word for "breath", and in a religious context for "spirit" or "soul".[1][2] It has various technical meanings for medical writers and philosophers of classical antiquity, particularly in regard to physiology, and is also used in Greek translations of the Hebrew Bible and in the Greek New Testament. In classical philosophy, it is distinguishable from psyche (ψυχή), which originally meant "breath of life", but is regularly translated as "spirit" or most often "soul".[3] - Wikipedia


End file.
